


Do What Thou Wilt (Fay Ce Que Vouldras)

by Sestra_Prior



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, Explicit Language, First Time, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-13
Updated: 2006-09-22
Packaged: 2018-09-30 12:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10163015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sestra_Prior/pseuds/Sestra_Prior
Summary: Harry and Severus go for a romp through eighteenth century England with whores, highwaymen and the Hellfire Club thrown in for good measure.  Non-magical and AU (obviously!)





	1. The First

All characters are the property of Ms Rowling. I just like to play with them now and again!

 

To RaeWhit, my wonderful beta, who always seems to find time for me, no matter how busy she is. Thank you for everything, my friend.

And to Chris; for help, support, and most of all for understanding.

**Do What Thou Wilt**

**(Fay Ce Que Vouldras)**

"Will you be attending church this weekend, Brother Severus?" The voice was quiet and cultured.

Severus sat back in his chair and turned to look at the speaker, who was leaning over his shoulder; he smiled. "Of course, Brother Lucius, I believe we will be performing the Novice Welcoming Ceremony at the Priory…you know I never like to miss those." His voice was equally hushed, and Brother Lucius merely smiled in response before he turned and walked away.

Severus smoothed down the black fabric that covered his legs and allowed his mind to dwell on the upcoming rites of passage. It was always gratifying to welcome new members into the Order: it gave him a sense of sharing; sharing ideals and morals; sharing the words of the founder of their Order. To know that there were other minds out there that were open enough to embrace the teachings of the sect was heartening. Of course, not all the Novices would accede to become full members, but it was always pleasing that so many were willing to try.

He rose to his feet and caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the night-darkened glass of a nearby window. He allowed a slight grimace of distaste to twist his mouth before once more schooling his features to betray no emotion. He was of average height; his dark hair hung to his shoulders. His skin was almost unnaturally pale, and his nose was large and hooked from a break in his youth that had been set badly by a quack doctor. His eyes, which Severus often considered his best feature, shone with intelligence…but little warmth.

Severus shrugged and once more silently thanked the Order for their complete lack of concern over a person's looks. To them, far more important were a person's morals, dedication to the cause, and adherence to the Order's code. Severus had no qualms on that score; he knew he lived up the Brotherhood's expectations completely.

********

Harry had received his summons to the Priory on the Monday. A thick piece of folded parchment had been delivered to his home, sealed by a deep red blob of wax bearing the crest of the Order. He greeted it with a mixture of anticipation and fear, but Harry had thought long and hard about his course of action and was determined to go through with his plans.

The directions contained in the letter had been clear; he was to present himself at the Priory on Saturday evening at eight p.m., bringing with him nothing but the clothes he stood up in. He was also to be aware that he must give up a week of his time for the instruction that each Novice had to go through in preparation for the final choosing ceremony where their fate would be decided — whether or not they would be accepted by the Brotherhood or not. 

By Saturday night he was a bundle of nerves. He dithered about what outfit he should put on, all the time aware that it didn’t really signify; he had heard that the Novices were supplied with a habit as soon as they arrived. In the end he chose a simple, sombre coloured suit of clothes from the few outfits he had that actually fitted him to some degree, and dressed with trembling fingers.

His carriage dropped him outside the great building and, with hesitant feet, he walked up the stone steps to the front door of the Priory with his heart in his mouth, and an almost irresistible urge to turn tail and flee. A manservant answered the door and, with a haughty look, asked Harry’s business. He seemed much taken aback when Harry produced his invitation and, somewhat reluctantly, Harry thought, stood to one side and ushered him in.

Harry found himself in a vast, richly decorated entrance hall, but he only had time to gain a very fleeting impression of the magnificence, before he was shown into an anteroom. It differed starkly from the lavish opulence of the hall, being Spartan in design: plain white walls against which were set wooden benches with pegs above. He was handed a coarse woollen robe with a thin leather belt and told to remove all his clothes and his shoes and don the habit.

His guide then departed, informing the small group of men that were gathered there that they would be collected and guided to where the ceremony was to take place, in due course.

Harry looked about him nervously. The other men present all seemed to be much older than him. "Lost your way to the nursery, child?" one of them asked snidely. Another man, with light brown hair and an open, honest face, placed his hand on the first man's arm.

"We are all here for the same reason, my friend, and I believe the Order places great worth on solidarity and kinship. If our friend considers himself ready to join the Order, then who are we to find fault?"

The first man shrugged and grinned mirthlessly at Harry, before turning away to put on his white robes. The brown haired man smiled more warmly and made a place by his side for Harry to change.

********

The night air was bitingly cold, and Harry had trouble stopping his teeth from chattering as the wind whipped up his robes and breathed icily on his naked flesh beneath.

They were walking in a straggling line across the grounds of the Priory to a small copse of trees that Harry could just make out in the darkness. His feet were bare, and the grass, frozen into tiny daggers by a late frost, scratched at his tender flesh. Their escort held a flaming torch over his head, and the light of it guided the Novices through the trees and onwards towards what looked like a derelict building. The torchlight bounced back off stone walls that rose up on each side, arched empty windows framing the night sky. They flanked another high wall, in the base of which a gaping black hole, even darker than the night around them, loomed like the maw of a monstrous beast. Above them, instead of a roof, cold stars could be seen, burning in the heavens. Harry shivered again as their leader ushered them forward into the cave.

The sound of their bare feet whispered echoes off the cavern walls, a soft, sibilant 'shuff', 'shuff' as they made their way along twisting, cramped tunnels. Every so often they would come across rough hewn niches in the walls which contained statues. As they passed through two large caverns, the light from the meagre torch caused shadows to twist into grotesque figures on the craggy rock, lying about the nature of the men that cast them, turning them into the stuff of nightmares. As they descended further into the depths of the earth, Harry began to hear the faint sound of chanting, as if a multitude of voices were calling them to their doom. 

Abruptly his foot splashed into something wet—across the Novices' path lay a narrow river; two boats were drawn up on the bank closest to them, and their guide motioned to them to embark. Harry found himself with an oar, and once all the other Novices had settled themselves into the two boats, he set off and paddled quickly to the far bank.

From there, their way was short. They rounded a corner and found the glow of torchlight spilling onto their faces. Their guide halted them, and then reached into a recess in the rock wall of the tunnel. From it he withdrew several white masks, which, once donned, would effectively cover the whole of the wearer's face; he bade them wait until called forward, and then turned and left them, entering the room beyond.

The Novices were silent, not one of them daring to utter a word. They stood in nervous anticipation until, abruptly, the chanting ceased. A clear voice broke the newly created silence.

"We are gathered here tonight to perform the Ceremony of Welcoming. Beyond this cave are gathered those who wish to become one of our number. They will have to overcome the rites of passage that our Order requires before they can be welcomed as full Brothers, but I would like you to extend a welcome to them now as Novices. Step forward, those of you who wish to join the Order of the Knights of St Francis of Wycombe. Step forward, those men who wish to join the Hellfire Club."

At the speaker's final words a great cheer rang out, and Harry was swept forward as the group of Novices took their cue to enter the main chamber.

Bright light. A press of black robed figures. The smell of burning pitch and candle wax. The soft murmur of male voices. All these things assaulted Harry's senses as the group of Novices rushed him into a great cavern. Then the small party stopped, and Harry finally had a chance to examine his surroundings from behind the safety of his mask.

The cave was large, the torchlight barely illuminating the higher-most reaches of the roof. The floor was sandy…warm and coarse beneath his feet, seeping between his cold toes. On every side the walls were painted with murals on the living rock, in all the colours of the rainbow. Grouped around the sides of the cave were the full members of the Hellfire Club...clad in full-length black robes; there must have been upwards of forty of them present. And standing in the centre of the cavern was Sir Francis Dashwood himself.

He was clad in the outfit sported by all the members of the inner circle: white shirt and breeches, and white jacket, but where the rest of the inner circle sported a white hat and cloak, Dashwood, as the Prior, wore a red cloak and a small round red hat trimmed with rabbit fur. His face was lit by a mischievous smile, and his eyes twinkled at the group of Novices huddled before him.

Harry had heard rumours about the exploits of this leader of the Monks of Medmenham, and if even half of them were true—well that was what he was here to discover.

Dashwood began to speak again.

"As is usual, each Novice will be given into the care of one of our full members for a week's 'assessment'." There was some scattered chuckling at this, and Harry's stomach became a hard knot. Sir Francis continued. "At the end of that time they will return here, and judgement will be passed upon them as to their suitability to become full members of our Order." 

He had turned to address the Brothers, now he turned back to the Novices. "Each one of you will come forward, and then I will call out the name of the member who will take you into his charge. You will then depart with that member for your training. You will not remove your masks until you are at the home of your carer. Whilst there, you will obey your carer; you will do whatever he bids, whenever he bids it; you will not complain and you will not disobey; to do either one of these things will forfeit your training. Should this occur, you will be returned to your own home, you will be denied entrance into our ranks, and you will not seek to enter them at any time in the future. Also, and perhaps most importantly, you will not discuss the Order with anyone."

Dashwood paused and looked sternly at the huddled group before him. The he gestured the first Novice forward.

One by one the Novices were passed to a member, upon which they would leave the cavern with the Brother, via the tunnel they had entered by. Soon the only Novices left were Harry and the brown haired man who had spoken kindly to him back at the Priory.

The brown haired man went forward and Dashwood called out a name. "Brother Lucius."

And then it was Harry's turn. He went slowly forward, wondering how he was keeping upright, because his knees felt like they were made of jelly. His insides were twisting and turning as if a nest of snakes had taken up residence in them, and he had to clench his teeth together to stop them from chattering.

"Brother Severus," Dashwood called. A dark haired man detached himself from the crowd, and Harry examined him nervously as he walked to the young man's side. He appeared to be in his late thirties. Taller than Harry, not handsome, but striking, with a thin face, and hair that tumbled to his shoulders, as black as a raven's wing. His eyes were also dark, and piercing, as they looked over Harry's trembling form. Without speaking, he bowed to Dashwood, came to Harry's side and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, then, with a slight push, guided him from the cavern.

********

Harry and his carer made their way back down the tunnel silently until they reached the river where a torch was burning in a bracket on the tunnel wall, illuminating several small boats that were now tied up. Severus, in a low voice, ordered Harry to untie one of the boats and Harry obeyed; Severus then clambered into the boat and Harry followed him in. He took up the paddle and was about to head for the opposite bank when his carer stopped him.

"No, this time we will travel down the river." His voice was low, and as smooth and dark as the river itself; Harry felt a shiver run through him that had nothing to do with the cold.

The older man pointed downstream to where the water disappeared into the darkness. Seeing Harry's look of confusion, he unbent enough to explain to his charge that the river emerged from the caverns about a half a mile down stream. From there they would join a larger river, which would then take them to where they would meet Severus’ carriage.

********

Severus covertly watched the young man who had been given into his charge as he paddled the little boat out of the tunnels and into the moonlit night. He was small, slim of build, and appeared nervous about the prospect of what was to come. Severus allowed himself a smirk. He was flattered that Dashwood had selected him to train one of the Novices. It was not the first time, but each time he was chosen, Severus felt that Sir Francis was illustrating his unspoken approval of Severus' dedication to the Order. Whilst he knew he would never be a member of the inner circle, Severus was content to be a part of the Brotherhood that was the Hellfire Club.

There were many misconceptions about the Order. There were those who believed them to be a group of Satanists, devil worshipers, and whilst it was true that many of the members were not Christians, religion was not the primary driving force behind the Society, and Satanism was mocked as freely as was Christianity. Admittedly they held mock ceremonies, as witnessed tonight, and the inner circle practised ancient pagan rites in the sanctity of their secret room, although Dashwood himself held any organised religion in great disdain, hence the name by which they went, "The Monks of Medmenham", but it hid the real thing that formed them into a cohesive unit—the idea of free thought.

Some of the greatest minds of the eighteenth century were members of the Order—and some of the most powerful men in the country. And they all had one thing in common…a dislike of the rigid mores of the time that dictated what, when and how a man should think—mores that were usually dictated by the church.

Dashwood had kicked over the traces and set up the Order of the Knights of St Francis of Wycombe in rebellion. And it was amazing how many men flocked to his banner…and not just men. Although not able to become 'Monks', there were several women who were equally fervent believers in the right to free thought.

Yes, sex played a part in the Order; it was regarded as just another way for individuals to demonstrate their right of freedom to express themselves. The Hellfire motto was very apt…"Fay ce que vouldras", Do What Thou Wilt…and many of the members did just that.

Severus grinned at the thought: memories of rowdy nights at Medmenham Abbey, the usual meeting place of the Order, crowding through his mind…then returned his attention to the newest would-be member.

They had reached the main river now, and Severus pointed his charge in the direction of the landing stage a little way downstream on the opposite bank.

********

Harry paddled the little boat to the wooden jetty and leapt nimbly out, painter in hand, to tie up the boat. He stretched his hand down to the older man and assisted him from the craft, then stood waiting on the boards for his instructions. Dimly, through the darkness, he could make out the outline of a carriage. A man bearing a sputtering torch came towards them and greeted Harry's carer with a few murmured words, casting a discreet glance in Harry's direction; then the servant, as Harry assumed him to be, led the way back to the carriage, opened the door and pulled down the step.

Harry had followed the black-clad figure of Severus and now he clambered into the carriage, grateful for the hot bricks wrapped in cloth that had warmed the interior. He noted the plush, expensive upholstery that spoke volumes about his carer's wealth. Severus settled himself and gestured to Harry to sit. Then he pulled a thick woollen travelling rug over both their knees and settled back.

Once they were underway, Harry sat silently in his corner, eyes fixed on the darkness outside the glazed window. His stomach was still a knot of nerves, and he had to grip his hands together tightly to stop himself from twisting them together in his lap. His mouth was dry, and he wished the man by his side would say something, _anything_ to break the silence that grew heavier by the minute.

Finally the dark-haired man did just that.

"What is your name?"

"Potter, sir, Harry Potter."

"Potter, hmm? Any relation to Thomas?"

"Distantly, yes, Sir."

"I am Severus Snape, Mr. Potter, and since we are to be spending a lot of time together in the following week, I shall call you Harry. You may call me Severus."

The man lapsed into silence again, but this time it was not for long. Buildings began to line the road, and soon the carriage turned off into a square of prestigious houses and drew up in front of one.

The servant sprang down and opened the carriage door, dropping the step and holding out his hand to assist the two men down. Harry was still wearing his mask, conscious of Dashwood's instructions, but he was looking forward to taking it off and hurried up the steps and into the house on the heels of his host.

He was shown into a study where a great fire burned in the hearth.

"Take a seat," Severus instructed. "You must be cold. I'll pour us a brandy."

He went to a sideboard where crystal decanters winked in the candlelight, and began to pour amber liquid into two glasses. 

"You may take off your mask now," he added, his back still turned to Harry.

Harry took off the mask gratefully. Whilst back in the cavern it had served as something to hide behind, by now it had become claustrophobic, and damp with his breath. He laid it carefully on a small table that stood by the chair he had chosen before the fire, and then stretched out his hands and his cold bare feet to the welcoming flames.

He turned when he heard his host approach with his drink.

"By the gods!" Severus’ face was a picture of shock mingled with anger and something that might have been concern.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, worried.

"How old are you?" The older man demanded.

"N…nineteen," Harry stuttered, before he thought to lie. 

"Nineteen?" Severus blazed. "What the hell do you think you are doing here?"

"Urm, for my training?"

"Training? You are a child. I don't know how you gained permission to apply to the Order, but I'll have none of it. You are barely out of the schoolroom, for heaven's sake." 

Severus sat down heavily in the chair opposite to Harry, and gulped back his brandy in one mouthful. He glanced at the other glass in his hand, as if contemplating drinking that as well, before turning his gaze once more on Harry. He reluctantly passed the drink across to him.

"I'm not even sure I should be giving you brandy to drink," he snapped. "What did you think you were playing at? Do your parents know what you are up to?”

“I was orphaned when I was a baby,” Harry said shortly.

“What about your guardians? Surely they did not give _their_ blessing to this mad-cap scheme?”

Harry sneered. “My _guardians_ could not care less what I do. My aunt and her husband showed me the door the moment I left school, declaring that their duty to care for me was over. I make my own decisions with regard to my life now.” 

“Well, this must be one of the worst you have made. What possessed you to think you are old enough or experienced enough to become a member of the Hellfire Club? Do you have any idea just what being one of the Medmenham Monks entails? Or is this just a youthful prank?" Severus demanded.

He jumped to his feet once more and went and poured himself another brandy. Harry sipped his gratefully, trying to concentrate on the warmth that it was spreading through his body, rather than on the shocked outpourings of his host.

"Well?" 

"I am fully aware what being a member entails. And if Sir Francis thinks I am suitable to be considered as a candidate for membership, despite my _youth_...." Harry allowed the rest of the sentence to remain unsaid, hoping desperately that the statement would give his carer pause for thought.

"I have serious doubts that Dashwood is even aware of your age," Severus stated baldly. "He may be a libertine, but even _he_ baulks at the irresponsible deflowering of young boys."

Harry sprang to his own defence, concerned now that his chance to become one of the Monks of Medmenham was slipping away. "I'm _not_ a virgin!" he said hotly, feeling his face flame with more than the heat from the fire.

" _You_ might consider your adolescent fumblings with some serving wench to be sufficient experience to enter the Order…I can assure that you _I_ do not." 

Harry had sat upright in his chair now, the glass of brandy still clutched in his hand, forgotten. "And _I_ can assure _you_ that my experience covers more than _adolescent fumblings_ , as you so delightfully put it."

********

Severus bit back a smile. A least the boy had courage. But he was in a dilemma. Had he been able, he would have immediately sent a message to Dashwood, but he was aware that the man was leaving for France as soon as the meeting had finished. For all he had told Potter that he thought that Dashwood must be unaware of the boy's age, that wasn't strictly true. Sir Francis was usually very thorough in checking out the suitability of candidates seeking admission into his club, and it would have been very unlike him to overlook to check someone's age.

There was no _specific_ age below which a person was denied admittance into the club, but it was generally assumed that those below the age of twenty-seven or eight would not have the experience, or the worldliness, needed to qualify.

Severus bit his lip as he regarded the young man gazing so earnestly at him. Perhaps Dashwood _was_ aware of the boy's age? Perhaps the boy had more about him than Severus guessed?

"So," he said slowly, beginning to pace the room, "you are an experienced lover, hmm?"

The boy shrugged, trying to look unconcerned at the direction Severus' questioning was taking. "I've seen my fair share of action."

"And does your _fair share of action_ include the pleasuring of two women together? Could you please one with your tongue whilst you fucked another? Does you experience include ploughing the furrow of someone's wife…whilst her husband watched? Or joined in?" Severus was warming to his task now…that of shocking the boy into the realisation that he had better run whilst he had the chance.

"Does your _experience_ include, perhaps, being fucked by another man?" He lowered his voice. "Does your _fair share of the action_ include performing fellatio on one man whilst another mounts you…his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you? Well? Does it? …Interesting," Severus added, and indeed, to him, it was. "You are aroused by that scenario." 

He smirked as the boy looked down with horror into his lap and noticed the erection that had suddenly risen beneath his robes.

Severus had been stalking about the room as he presented the varying scenarios to his charge, but now he moved swiftly to stand behind Harry’s chair. He lent over the back and, before Harry had time to stop him, he snaked an arm over the boy's shoulder and clapped a cupped hand over the hard length that had sprouted from between his Novice’s legs. Harry let out a gasp of shock, and Severus leant down so that his lips nearly brushed his charge’s ear, then in a voice that was a deep purr, said, "Hmm, could it be that your interests lie in that direction, young Harry? Do you prefer your sexual partners to be smooth of chest and hard of prick?" 

He began to stroke the erection beneath his fingers, gently but firmly, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the boy, feeling his own prick rising as Harry's head dropped back onto the seat behind him, his lips parting, eyes fluttering shut.

They were disturbed by a discreet knock on the study door.

Severus lazily removed his hand after giving the cock beneath it a brief squeeze. "Enter."

A wizened old man of indeterminate age hobbled into the study. "I have turned down your covers and placed a warming pan in your bed, Master, and had the bed made up in the scarlet guest suite for our young…visitor." A beady eye was cast in Harry's direction.

"Thank you, Dobby. Please be kind enough to show Mr. Potter to his room."

The old man departed and Harry got to his feet.

"We will discuss this in the morning…goodnight, Mr. Potter." Severus said dismissively.

"But…" Harry began.

Severus eyes narrowed. "Are you disobeying me, Harry? Are you making my decision for me with regard to your…education?"

The boy shook his head quickly. "No, sir. Goodnight, sir." He followed Dobby from the room.

********

Harry stared up into the canopy of the great four-poster bed in the scarlet guest suite where the servant, Dobby, had directed him. The room was opulent, decorated in red and gold. There had been a night-shirt folded up on the bed, and Harry had happily shrugged his way out of the Novice's robe and into its crisp folds. On a table by the window, he discovered a tray beneath a cloth. A plate of cold chicken and a glass of wine were a welcome sight, and he had quickly devoured both before climbing into the great bed.

He had expected sleep to come quickly—he was both physically and mentally exhausted with all that had happened in the last few hours. But Morpheus was elusive, preferring to hide in the shadows of the room rather than come out and embrace the young man so desperate for sleep.

For several long, heart-stopping moments, Harry had truly believed that Severus was going to throw him out and send him home, or maybe even send a message to Dashwood himself, demanding to know why someone as young as himself had been allowed to become a Novice. Had that happened, Harry knew his cover would have been blown. Dashwood had been led to believe that Harry was ten years older than he actually was. He hadn’t meant to blurt out his true age when questioned…it had just happened, and Harry could have kicked himself for been such a fool. Luckily, for some reason, it appeared that Severus had decided to keep Harry…at least, for the time being.

The other thing that was bothering him was how he’d responded to that caressing hand. It was almost as if that rich, mellow voice had somehow hypnotised him, pulled tendrils of desire through the net that Harry had carefully constructed to contain them. The images that Severus had conjured up in his mind, especially the ones involving other men, had sent thrills through his body. He was shocked at how they made him feel. Imagining such things in the privacy of one's mind was one thing, hearing them spoken aloud by a stranger, in a voice that seemed made for voicing such…such _debauched_ ideas…well, that was something else.

No, Harry had had no experience of sex with another man, but that wasn't to say he hadn't thought about it, and chided himself for doing so.

_Severus' hand on his cock. It had felt good_. 

Even now he could feel the ghost of that palm on his genitals, and his cock began to harden at the memory. 

Harry clenched his hands together behind his head; willing his erection down, he closed his eyes and resorted to his age-old method of lulling himself to sleep—reciting poetry.

****

Severus stared into the dying fire and wondered what he should do. The boy's response to him had been quite surprising…and delightful. There was no doubt he had a very sensual nature. There were many of the members who would welcome such a fresh-faced morsel to play with, especially one that became aroused so prettily. But responding to one man in the privacy of a study was one thing – performing in front of a room full of the Brethren was quite another.

He wondered who had recommended Harry for membership. He presumed it was Thomas Potter, the boy's relation. But it would be an odd thing to do…to recommend one's young, comparatively innocent relative for membership of one of the most notorious clubs in Britain.

He sipped at another brandy, trying to come to some decision regarding the boy. Should he decide not to take on the responsibility of training him, against Dashwood's wishes, it might look bad. On the one hand, the boy might be given to someone else to train; on the other, he might simply be denied entry according to the club's rules…and if Dashwood had plans for the lad…well, he wouldn't be best pleased with Severus for upsetting them.

So, that is what he would do. Decision made, Severus relaxed. He would tutor the boy in the requirements of the club—but try to ensure that the boy himself chose to give the idea up. Then he, Severus, could not be blamed.

He yawned and stretched, placing the now empty brandy glass on a side table. Now that he had made up his mind how to proceed, Severus Snape was rather looking forward to the next week—the boy wouldn't last two days, about that Severus was nearly certain.


	2. The First

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

They ate breakfast in a small sunny room that overlooked the garden at the back of the house.

Harry had awakened when a manservant had drawn back the curtains in his room, allowing sunshine to spill into the chamber and dance on the gold and scarlet furnishings. The servant placed a jug of hot water beside a bowl, ready for Harry's morning ablutions, and a cup of tea on the small table to the side of the bed, then he had politely requested that Harry ring the bell when he was ready to be shown to the breakfast room. He was just about to leave when Harry suddenly remembered that he had no clothes to wear, apart from the Novice robe; on scanning the room, he realised that that was nowhere to be seen either.

"Erm," he began, embarrassed beyond belief at the thought of having to ask this haughty servant for clothing. He was forestalled.

"My apologies, sir. The Master said to inform you that the clothes in the dressing room are for your use." The man gestured toward a door opposite the end of the bed, and then added, "Does sir require the assistance of a valet?"

Harry shook his head. "Um, no, I'll manage, thank you." 

The servant looked faintly astonished that a gentleman could possibly dress himself, and then, after reminding Harry that breakfast would be served in an hour, he departed.

It was so normal as to be almost surreal after the events of the night before. Harry wondered if he had the courage to face his host...or if it would be better to make good his escape whilst he still had some semblance of control over his desires.

He jumped out of the bed and went to explore the dressing room. The door opened on to a small room; a day bed, upholstered in deep green velvet, was positioned against one wall, against two others were rails of clothes. Another door stood opposite the one from Harry's room; he tried the handle but it was locked.

He turned his attention to the clothing and was amazed to find that it was all in his size. There were trousers and shirts, waistcoats and cravats, jackets, stockings and handkerchiefs…even shoes and underclothes. It was all of the highest quality, and Harry set about the enjoyable task of picking out a suit of clothing, before carrying it back into his bedroom. Although not short of money, his aunt and uncle had never spent a penny on clothes for their nephew, preferring to inflict the cast-offs of Harry’s rather large cousin upon him. So it was that until he was eighteen, and thus able to access the interest from his inheritance, Harry had had to make do with hand-me-downs. He washed thoroughly, then donned the garments, wondering as he did so how Severus happened to have his size, or if the man had sent out and purchased everything for him alone…. 

He examined the clothing more carefully; there did not seem to be any signs that it had been worn previously, which meant that Severus must have bought it all new. Harry was astonished; the man must have spent a fortune…then he realised that the new clothes had a more important significance. Severus must have decided to continue his training. Why else would the man have gone to such lengths? If he meant to return Harry to his home, surely he wouldn't have bothered?

Harry was a little unsure how he actually felt about that. On the one hand, it meant that he had a chance of actually becoming a member of the Hellfire Club and fulfilling his mission; on the other…it meant he would be exposed to more of Severus' _training_ , and Harry was not sure just how far the man would go. He supposed that the job of the carers was to ensure that the Novices were suitable candidates to join the Order…and that meant they had to be confident, worldly…and sexually experienced.

Whist Harry would never have admitted it, his sexual experience was limited to a willing maid at the school he had attended, and the daughter of a local farmer. Both experiences had left Harry feeling that his friends had either talked up the whole sex thing…or he was doing it wrong. The other explanation for his lack of enjoyment was too worrying to contemplate…that his inclinations lay in an entirely different direction. Deep down he had to admit that Severus had more effectively aroused him with a simple touch, than either girl had done with all their sighs and grasping, their wet lips and full breasts.

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, deciding to deal with each event as and when it happened.

Harry turned to examine himself critically in a nearby mirror and was rather impressed by his reflection—he looked a very fine gentleman. The breeches were beautifully tailored, ending just below his knees where snowy white stockings encased his calves. An equally white shirt, with wide sleeves that ended in drawstring cuffs, went beneath a black waistcoat with silver buttons. Harry had carefully arranged one of the white lace cravats at his throat; he had never bothered to learn the more complicated knots, so a simple one had to suffice. Silver buckles winked on the black shoes. Plucking up his courage, he turned and rang the bell for the servant.

He had been guided to the sunny room where his host had greeted him casually, then gone back to eating his breakfast whilst studying a book that was propped against a candlestick. Harry found that he was hungry and filled a plate with all sorts of delectable things that he found under the covers of chaffing dishes set out on a sideboard. Then, taking his seat at the table, he began to assuage his hunger.

********

Severus pretended to read whilst keeping a surreptitious eye on his young charge. In daylight the boy looked even more child-like, and Severus suffered another pang of doubt. He cleared his throat.

"Did you sleep well?"

Harry had just stuffed a large bite of sausage into his mouth, and it was a few moments before he emptied it and could speak. "Yes, thank you. I slept very well. The room is very comfortable."

"And the clothes? They appear to fit you well enough."

"Oh, yes. It was very kind and considerate of you."

Severus allowed himself a brief smirk. "Well, I could hardly have you walking around the house naked, now could I?" He arched an eyebrow, delighted to see a flush of embarrassment stain the boy's cheeks. His task was going to be easy—he would be surprised if the boy made it to the end of the day.

They finished the rest of breakfast in silence. Then Severus got to his feet. "I thought that this morning I would show you the library; you may spend some time there if you would like. I have some work that I must be getting on with."

He led the way along a passage and opened a double door. A huge library was revealed. Severus stood back and allowed his young charge a view of the room. From the look on his face, the boy was astonished.

"I take it you _can_ read?"

"Of course!" Harry said hotly. "Although," he continued, in a voice of awe, "I have rarely seen so many books together in one place at the same time." His eyes scanned the shelves.

Severus was proud of his library. It had taken a lot of time and money to gather all the books together; they were his pride and joy. He couldn't say that he had read every one of the tomes on the shelves, but he knew the contents of a good many of them. He smiled behind the boy's back.

He walked into the room and gestured about him. "There are all sorts of book that you may find interesting. What sort of books do you like?" He turned an enquiring eye on his charge.

Harry's face was a picture; it was a combination of awe…and something that Severus could only describe as greed.

"Anything…I read anything." The boy answered in a sort of breathless whisper, his eyes scanning the titles of the books closest to him.

Severus smiled more warmly. So, the young man had a love of books; that was one thing in his favour. "I will leave you to it then. Do make yourself comfortable…should you need anything, just ring for one of the servants. I would join you," Severus added, a slightly wistful note in his voice, "but there is something that requires my attention."

Harry had already moved to one of the shelves and taken down a book. Now he turned back to his host.

"Thank you. I shall very much enjoy looking through your library." His eyes dropped back to the book he was holding. Severus smiled again at the picture he presented, and then left the young man to his own devices.

********

Harry spent two hours ensconced in a large, leather armchair beside the fire in the library. He had spent nearly an hour trawling through the shelves and shelves of books, picking out titles at random, skimming a few pages, then putting them back and moving on. Until he found a whole section of books that had made his eyes widen. They were sexually explicit, illustrated with images that, on first seeing them, had made Harry shut the book he had picked up with a snap. Then, curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly opened the book again and began to examine the pictures.

In the end he took a small stack of books back to the chair by the fire. He had been vaguely aware of a servant entering to the light the fire, and by the time he took his seat, it was crackling happily in the ornate marble fireplace. Harry had eclectic tastes when it came to reading matter. He had spent his education groaning at the sight of the textbooks he was supposed to study, but as soon as his schooling had finished, he suddenly found that he missed having something to read. Now that he could choose what he wanted, Harry read whatever he could get his hands on.

In the pile by his side were poetry books, history books, a large atlas that he spent nearly half an hour poring over, fascinated by the maps it contained. He refrained from picking up the book on sex until he could no longer resist the urge.

It seemed to be some sort of manual of sexual positions. And the pictures didn't just depict the usual heterosexual couplings; there were depictions of females together and men together. It was these latter illustrations that drew Harry's attention the most.

Although he had been vaguely aware of the mechanics of sex between two men, seeing it drawn out on the pages before him…well! Harry was embarrassed to find that his cock was beginning to become erect. His mouth gaped open in a silent gasp at one of the illustrations he came across…just the thought of someone doing _that_ to him…he squirmed in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable position, one which didn't press his hard cock against the material of his trousers.

After a short while, Harry's free hand dropped almost unconsciously into his lap; then it began to rub at his hardness. Harry kept his eyes fixed on the drawings in front of him. He spread his knees, sliding down in the chair a little to ease his aching prick. His hand began to rub more swiftly, and Harry could feel the first signs of impending orgasm.

"I see you've found the pornography section."

Severus had entered the room silently and now stood, looking down at Harry, a smirk twisting the corners of his thin mouth.

Harry blushed a fiery red and dropped the book he had been masturbating over. But before he could move, Severus had dropped to the ground between Harry's knees and pressed an open mouth to the boy's cloth-covered erection, his hands on Harry's thighs preventing the young man from closing his legs.

Hot breath penetrated the fabric of Harry's trousers, and he couldn't stifle the gasp of pleasure that forced its way between his lips.

********

Severus didn't think he had ever seen a more delectable sight: his young charge sprawled in a leather chair, masturbating. The boy's lips were slightly parted, his eyes fixed on the book he was perusing. From the speed of the hand rubbing at the boy's cock, Severus assumed that he was near to his climax. He was torn between the desire to see the boy reach his attainment alone, and a desire to help him there.

"I see you've found the pornography section."

The boy blushed a deep red and dropped the book he had been wanking over. His eyes were shocked and dismayed. Severus didn't give Harry time to jump to his feet. He dropped between his charge's legs and, holding the boy's thighs apart, pressed his open mouth to the hardness straining the front of the trousers; then he breathed. Harry let out a muted cry of pleasure, at least Severus assumed it was pleasure, because, once more, the boy made no move to escape his attentions.

Taking Harry's lack of resistance as tacit permission to continue, Severus quickly unbuttoned the placket on the front on the boy's trousers and freed his erection. It was beautiful; Severus took a moment to admire the reddened column of flesh, the ruby-flushed head and the glistening drop of moisture that bedewed the end, before sinking his mouth over it.

This time there was no mistaking the cry that left the boy's lips as anything other than pleasure. His hips thrust upwards, forcing the cock further into Severus' hungry mouth, and Harry's head dropped back onto the seat behind him, eyelids fluttering closed. 

Severus released the cock in his mouth.

"Open your eyes…I want you to watch what I am doing to you; watch…and learn."

Harry's eyes shot open as the implication of his host's words sunk into his brain. His mouth opened again, letting out a soft gasp.

Severus sank his mouth over the boy's cock once more, teasing with his tongue, delighting to hear the whimpers of delight that he was drawing forth with every suck, almost as if he were sucking sounds from the boy, as well as sucking the orgasm from his body.

He grasped the base of Harry's cock, sure now that his charge was not about to close his legs in an attempt to deny Severus access to his delicious prize. Removing his mouth, he began to lick up and down, pausing every now and then to tease the slit at the top with the tip of his tongue. His long tongue curled snake-like around the column of flesh, as his clenching hand began to move up and down.

The boy's moans became more desperate, and Severus was almost sure he heard an "Oh, please." He cupped Harry's testicles with his other hand in time to feel them begin to draw up. Severus quickly drew the cock back into his mouth and hollowed his cheeks as he sucked hard.

Harry came in a salty rush, arching his hips, his fingers curling tightly around the arms of the chair. Severus swallowed the liquid down, then delicately licked the boy's cock clean.

He sat back on his heels and regarded his charge. There was no doubt about it; the boy was born for sex. It was almost as if he were two people: one who was shy and unversed in the ways of love; the other a wanton, who delighted in the sensations his body could be induced to produce.

He sprawled now, blinking at Severus like a daylight-befuddled owl, his legs still spread, his cock limp on his belly, and Severus wanted nothing more than to turn the boy over and fuck him through the leather upholstery.

He was prevented from carrying out his fantasy by the boom of a gong.

"Hmm, whilst I have just partaken of a very delicious feast, that is the sound that tells me that luncheon is served." Severus got to his feet, watching as Harry seemed to become aware of his surroundings again...watching as another of the boy's blushes stained the lad's cheeks.

'Gods,' Severus thought, his little Novice was a prize and no mistake, and if the boy managed to retain that innocent air he would win the hearts of many of the Brothers. He felt a sudden surge of jealousy; somehow the idea of Harry being shared by the Brethren was slightly disturbing. Severus pushed the thought to the back of his mind.

********

Harry came back to his surroundings feeling almost as if he had just awakened from a particularly vivid dream; indeed, for a moment or two he wondered if he had, in fact, been asleep…until he noticed the state of his clothing, and his now limp cock.

His eyes flew to the man who now stood before him.

"I think it would be best if you buttoned up, Harry. I'm afraid you would prove to be rather a distraction if you were to partake of luncheon in that state. We can have more fun later…should you be so inclined."

Harry fumbled with his buttons, blushing frantically as he stuffed his flaccid cock back into his trousers. Once again he had allowed himself to be pleasured by his host. He couldn't understand why the man had such an effect on him: to make him lose all his inhibitions; to sprawl wantonly, allowing the man to…to take Harry's prick into his mouth.

Said prick gave an excited jump, as if eager for more. Harry desperately tried to quell its renewed interest and concentrated on making himself respectable whilst the older man watched.

They ate luncheon in the same room as they had eaten breakfast. The food was delicious and Harry ate with gusto, despite his feelings of shame and embarrassment. Severus conversed on a number of subjects, drawing Harry into debates about politics and literature, testing, Harry assumed, his knowledge of such things. But he couldn't stop little thrills running through his body every time he caught sight of Severus opening his mouth to put in a fork-full of food…remembering what else the man had had in his mouth, only recently.

Harry had never felt pleasure like it; it was as if the world around him had faded as the pleasure within his body grew, until all he knew were the incredible sensations that Severus was producing by his skilled use of mouth and tongue. Even now, after the event, his head began to swim at the recollections.

"I thought we might visit the Shefferton Gallery this afternoon; they have an exhibition on that may prove to be a pleasant way to spend a few hours."

Harry came back to reality with a rush. "Ah, yes, erm, yes. I'm sure that would be most delightful," he managed to stutter.

"And then a visit to an establishment you may find entertaining."

Harry glanced at his host and was concerned to note that the man's eyes had narrowed as he stared intently at Harry, and an almost wicked smile had creased the corners of his mouth. Harry had no idea what this _establishment_ might be, but he had his suspicions that he was not going to find it the least bit _entertaining_.

********

The men repaired to their respective rooms as soon as luncheon was over, to wash and change for their afternoon visit. Harry was impressed all over again that his host had gone to so much trouble with regard to his charge's wardrobe. The clothes were of sombre colour, similar in fact to those that Severus himself wore, but they were beautifully cut, and Harry was quite sure that they had been made by one of the town's very finest tailors. Dressed in a clean shirt and trousers, with a more ornate waistcoat, Harry now picked out a frock coat from the several that hung on the rails.

He rejoined his host in the well-proportioned entrance hall, pleased that he had been able to find his way without the need to summon one of the servants. Severus was waiting for him, equally well dressed, and they made their way to the fine carriage that stood waiting for them at the door.

Harry was able to get a better look at the house, now it was daylight. It was an elegant Queen Anne building, graceful and simple of design. Its well-maintained appearance lent to the impression of quiet wealth, as did the matched pair of greys that were harnessed to the black carriage. A liveried footman opened the carriage door and let down the step, and a diminutive tiger grinned down at them from his perch seat at the back of the carriage; he tugged on a forelock and nodded his head. Severus returned the grin with a smile and nodded in greeting. "Dennis," he acknowledged, and then he and Harry took their seats.

The drive was enjoyable. Harry had spent some time in town, but not much, so he made the most of the trip, face pressed to the glass windows.

Severus proved to be an informative companion, pointing out buildings of note, recounting anecdotes and histories. Harry felt himself relaxing in the older man's company. He was finding it hard to equate _this_ man with the one who had… _pleasured_ him earlier. There was nothing about Severus' demeanour to suggest that anything out of the ordinary had occurred; he made no reference to the incident and did not try to touch Harry in any way.

Harry was still having trouble reconciling himself to what had happened: the fact that he had just given himself up to Severus' ministrations again...had indeed, Harry blushed to recall, begged the man for more. Try as he might, he couldn't reconcile his reactions simply with the need to get though his training. It went deeper than that. He responded to Severus in a way he had never experienced; the man drew something from him, _released_ something that scared Harry, because he was not sure if there were any limits as to how far this dark, enigmatic man could push him.

********

Severus enjoyed visiting the Shefferton Gallery. The proprietress was an old acquaintance of his, and she greeted him warmly.

"Severus, my dear friend."

Severus took the proffered hand and dropped a gallant kiss on to the back of it. "Minerva, as always, my day has become brighter now that you are in it."

The red-haired woman beamed at him, at the same time rapping him lightly with her fan. Then her eyes darted to Severus' young companion. She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow in Severus' direction.

"Minerva, would you allow me to introduce my friend? Mr. Harry Potter. Harry, may I present Miss Minerva McGonagall.”

Severus watched as Harry stepped forward and dutifully bent over Minerva's hand.

"Miss McGonagall. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Harry, why don't you have a look around whilst I spend a few minutes with Miss McGonagall?"

Harry, after bowing again to Minerva, went to view the paintings on display. Severus drew Minerva's arm though his and walked a little way in the other direction until he was sure they were out of Harry's earshot.

There was a frown on Minerva's face. She glanced back at the boy then hissed at Severus. "Is he what I think he is?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, and I know what you are thinking…."

"He is too young, Severus; the boy is barely out of the school room! What is Francis thinking?"

"I'm not sure he is aware of the boy's age but…"

"Francis?" Minerva broke in again. "Of course he must know how old the boy is. Have you ever know him to be anything less than thorough about checking the suitability of the Novices? Is Potter some relation to Thomas?"

"He says so, distantly."

Minerva frowned, deep in thought. "I presume it was he who vouched for the lad then?"

"I expect so.”

“In which case,” Minerva said slowly, “Francis may well _not_ have checked the boy out quite so thoroughly…what with Thomas being in the inner circle.”

“It does seem an odd thing to do…to recommend one's young, naïve relative for membership of the Hellfire Club." Severus allowed his eyes to drift over to where Harry was now scrutinising a painting by Gainsborough.

"Is he though? Naïve?"

He glanced down to find Minerva's eyes fixed on him in an eagle-like glare. Severus shrugged. "I would say so…but there _is_ something." He paused, trying to put into words his feelings about the boy. "He may be innocent, but the… _approaches_ I have made toward him have not been repulsed…rather I should say they have been _encouraged_."

He glanced over at Harry again. "He has what I consider to be a very sensual nature. It is as if the boy was born for sex. At the first touch, he becomes almost…wanton…." He trailed off, unsure if he was adequately describing what he had witnessed.

"But you still think he is a relative innocent?"

Severus nodded. "He blushes too easily to be anything but…and when he has…."

"Spit it out, Severus. You know very well that I have no sensibilities you need worry about offending."

"When he reaches his _attainment_ …it is almost as if he comes back into himself."

"Do you mean to say that when you are pleasuring him, he absents his mind?"

"No," Severus said slowly, "it's not like that. He is aware of what has been going on…but it is as if he forgets his morals at the first touch…then remembers them again when all is over." He allowed a smile to crease his thin lips. "It is most enchanting, Minerva, most enchanting…that look of blushing innocence." His smile faded abruptly. "He would steal hearts. About that there is no mistake."

“I am surprised you even agreed to take him on."

Severus shook his head. "It caused me some concern, I can tell you. But I reasoned, as you have, that Sir Francis is, in all probability, aware of the boy's age, and that perhaps he has plans for him. My refusing to take him on might have caused embarrassment…and after all, who am I to question the decisions of our leader? No, but I agree with you, he is too young to be considered for membership."

"Then what are you going to do?" Minerva asked.

Severus grinned evilly. "Push him, my dear Minerva. Push him until he decides _himself_ that he no longer _wants_ to be considered for membership. That way, no blame can be attached to me."

"As long as your _pushing_ is not _too_ extreme, Severus." Minerva tapped her companion lightly with her fan again. "You want to scare the boy, not scar him for life!" Then she too let her eyes wander over to where Harry was studying a large landscape. "Pity," she said, a faint smile twitching her lips. "I would have rather fancied furthering the boy's education."

"I rather think his inclinations lie in another direction, Minerva, my dear."

"Really? A man after your own heart? Double the pity then."

"I am taking him to Madame Maxime's when we have finished here."

"Madame Maxime's? Really Severus! You _are_ trying to push the boy, aren't you? Just make sure that no-one breaks him!" She laughed lightly and the two made their way back to Harry's side.

********

Harry covertly watched the pair as they talked, acutely aware that he was probably the subject of their conversation. To find a woman occupying the position of Miss McGonagall was a rare thing, and he could only draw one conclusion – that she was likely one of the very few women who were rumoured to be associated with the Hellfire Club. One of the very few women who were not…not _ladies of easy virtue_ , he euphemised to himself.

Harry briefly allowed his mind to wander to the possibility that in the future he might be required to, well, required to… _pleasure_ the woman. His flushed at the very thought and concentrated hard on the painting before him, forbidding his mind to conjure up such an image again; he would just have to hope that he accomplished his mission before such an incident occurred. It was not that Miss McGonagall was _unattractive_ , in a hard, thin sort of way; it was just that she was almost elderly…and not at all his type.

Of course, Harry was not at all sure just what his _type_ was; he was trying to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that insidiously suggested that his type was very probably male, a tall, dark-haired male, to be precise. With piercing black eyes.

He huffed a small sigh. Of course, this was the very thing that Severus had been trying to get through to him. The fact that if he became a Monk, then he wouldn't have the luxury of picking and choosing his sexual partners. He would be expected to give his favours without question, and receive those of others, as and when they saw fit to bestow them upon him.

The Order of the Knights of St Francis of Wycombe was not all poetry and politics, paintings and philosophy…it had not received its other name, the Hellfire Club, for nothing, and Harry would do well to remember that.

********

They spent a further two hours in the gallery. Minerva McGonagall insisted they visit her private sitting room and partake of tea with her. She had guided them around the paintings in her gallery with great knowledge and wit. Harry had laughed on several occasions as she recounted some of the less-well known, and rather salacious, facts about some of the artists.

He was aware that she was watching him with a great deal of interest in her eyes and could only assume that Severus had shared with her his young charge's true nature. Harry tried to quell the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks when he wondered just how much information Severus had seen fit to disclose.

Afternoon tea over, Severus ordered the carriage brought round, and they bid Minerva farewell.

They travelled for perhaps half an hour before, once more, the carriage drew to a halt. They were in a much less salubrious part of town, a far cry from the fashionable, _respectable_ neighbourhood where Severus had his home.

Harry was immediately aware of what sort of an establishment they were in the moment they stepped through the door…a brothel, a high-class brothel, but a brothel nonetheless. His insides knotted in panic and he suddenly felt cold and clammy.

They had entered a hallway and were immediately shown into an opulent sitting room by a petite maid. A large woman was seated behind a desk, and she rose fluidly to her feet on their entrance. Harry could only assume she was the proprietress. She was a tall, commanding woman, with jet-black hair and a forbidding expression… an expression that softened considerably when she recognised her visitor.

"Ah, Severoos. Ow good it is to see you." The woman had a thick East European accent. She swept Severus into an embrace, planting a kiss on each of his cheeks, before turning to Harry.

"Ello, leetle one. And my, aren't you a preety leetle thing." She turned back to Severus. "Am I right in assuming that you are eer for ze usual?"

"You are, Madame Maxime." 

The large woman turned around and, picking up a small silver bell from her desk, rang it; the maid reappeared. 

"Lavender, please ask Millicent and Pansy to join us."

The maid scurried off, and Madame Maxime gestured to the two men to be seated.

"Take a seat, gentlemen. Severoos, will you take a glass of your usual?"

"A brandy would be most welcome, Madame Maxime." Severus settled himself comfortably, pointedly ignoring the rapidly increasing look of trepidation on Harry's face.

Harry tentatively seated himself on the edge of a brocade sofa, trying desperately to quell his tumultuous stomach. At least his partner would be female, he tried to console himself, and whilst he might not be very good at it, at least he had experienced sex with a woman. He came to with a sudden jump, realising that the Madame was addressing him.

"A leetle nervous, leetle one? There is no need to be, my girls will take care of you, _very_ good care of you." She came over and pressed a glass of brandy into his hands, a smile plastered on her face as she leant forward and pinched his cheek.

Harry took a large swig of the drink, and then had to try hard not to choke as the fiery liquid blazed a trail down his throat. _Girls_ , had the woman said _girls_? As in the plural? Surely not…then he had a sudden, horrifying recollection of the first sexual scenario that Severus had presented him with. He cast a desperate look at the man. Severus’ eyes were fixed on him, glittering with amusement and a smirk twisted the corners of his mouth.

The door to the chamber opened and two giggling girls entered. One was tall, with brown hair, well built and buxom. The second was more petite, with dark, glossy hair that tumbled over her shoulders in waves. They glanced first at Severus then settled their gazes on Harry.

He felt like prey.

"Ah, Pansy, Millicent. I troost you will show our young friend ere a good time?" The two girls giggled and nodded.

Severus now turned to Harry. "Go on, boy, there is no need to be shy. Or have you perhaps changed your mind? Hmm?" he added quietly, with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.

Harry tossed the rest of his brandy down his throat, got bravely to his feet, and squared his shoulders. If Severus thought he was going to frighten Harry into giving up on his quest to become a member of the Monks of Medmenham…well, he had another think coming.

Madame Maxime was speaking again. "Are you sure we cannot entertain _you_ , Severoos?

Severus smiled easily. "No, Madame Maxime, thank you. I'm sure you know that, given the choice, my preferences lie in another direction."

The two girls had seized Harry by each arm and now they escorted him from the room.

He felt like he was on his way to meet his doom.

********

He emerged an hour later looking quite calm. In fact, Severus was surprised to note, there was a faint smile lurking about the corners of the boy's mouth.

He cursed inwardly. He had been quite certain that the prospect of entertaining two of Madame Maxime's girls would have sent the boy running into the night. There was also a still, small voice in the back of his mind that was faintly put out that Harry had apparently enjoyed the experience. Severus had been almost sure that the boy was of the same persuasion as himself, and a trickle of what he considered to be irrational disappointment ran down his back.

It was not as if he were planning on seeing the boy again once he had discouraged him from pursuing such a foolish course of action. Was not considering any sort of relationship with him. He was far too old and set in his ways to contemplate allowing someone into his life, especially a very young someone…who would be bound to tire of Severus and move on.

He mentally pulled himself up, castigating himself for even entertaining such thoughts, and turned his mind to the real problem at hand: the question of what exactly he was to do to put Harry off. Having been sure his plan would succeed, he had thought no further than Madame Maxime's; now he would have to come up with something else.

In the meantime, Severus reconciled, he could have a bit of fun with the boy. In the darkness of the carriage, he allowed a smirk of anticipation.


	3. The Third

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

It was still relatively early by the time they reached Severus' home. A late dinner had been arranged for them and, after refreshing themselves, Harry and Severus met in the entrance hall. Tonight they ate in the formal dining room, a richly decorated, grand room.

A highly polished mahogany table gleamed in the light shed by the candles that were held by silver candelabra in the centre of the board; silver cutlery and crystal glasses winked and gleamed, dancing stars of reflected light around the room.

Again Severus proved himself to be an amiable companion, although Harry felt that there was a certain reticence about the man that hadn't been in evidence before. He seemed somehow withdrawn, and although they discoursed on a number of subjects, Harry sensed that the man's mind was elsewhere.

After dinner they retired to the library. A fire kept the cool night air at bay, and Harry was happy to resume his seat in front of it. Carefully avoiding the pornographic publication, Harry took up one of the other books he had selected that morning.

Had it only been that morning? Such a lot seemed to have happened in the few short hours since then. He still inwardly cringed at the thought of what had occurred with Severus, in this very chair, but now the recollection was tempered with something else…something that Harry was having trouble defining. Or perhaps it was more that he recognised the feeling…and refused to acknowledge it for what it was.

It was a feeling that perhaps the experience hadn't been so very awful, after all. A feeling that maybe Harry wouldn't mind Severus doing that to him again. 

He felt himself blushing at the thought and struggled to re-focus his mind on the book in his hand.

The visit to the gallery had been both entertaining and enjoyable. Miss McGonagall had been an amusing companion, and had it not been for the fact that she was associated with the Order, Harry would have been happy to spend time in her company again. He had seen some wonderful paintings, and it had given them a whole new dimension, to hear stories about their artists. 

The trip to Madame Maxime's had not been a prospect he had been looking forward to, but Harry thought he had managed the situation very well, given the circumstances.

He allowed himself a brief glance at his host…and was disconcerted to find Severus’ eyes upon him; it appeared that the man might have been studying him for some time.

********

Severus watched the boy's emotions paint pictures on his face, pictures that gave a clear indication of just what was going on in the mind of the artist.

The unfocused eyes, the slight frown, then the blush, told Severus that Harry was recalling their earlier encounter in this very room.

Then a slightly far-away expression and a faint smile as the boy thought about his visit to the gallery.

Then, oddly, Severus thought, a faint, almost…he hesitated to use the word… _devious_ , expression: narrowed eyes and a twist to the lips. Severus had no idea what could have elicited that particular reaction, but he was intrigued.

Then the boy looked up at him. Severus held the gaze, momentarily lost in the deep green eyes, and then he glanced at the title of the book that Harry was reading.

"Had enough of erotica for one day, Harry?"

The boy flushed, but before he could respond, Severus went on smoothly. "Pity, I have some rather fine, rare art work that I thought you might like to see."

Harry had regained his composure. "I would be happy to see it," he said bravely.

Severus arched one eyebrow, his eyes firmly fixed on his charge. "Really?"

Harry sat straighter in his chair. Severus watched him swallow before squaring his shoulders and nodding an affirmative.

Severus got to his feet. "Well then…."

Harry made as if to rise, but Severus gestured to him to remain seated.

"No, you stay there, I will bring them to you…they are only small, but I believe you may find them of interest." 

Crossing to a leather-topped desk, Severus reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved a small silver key. Bending down, he unlocked one of the desk drawers and pulled out a large black album.

Then he returned to the fireplace and stood before Harry's chair. Now he did ask Harry to rise, and promptly seated himself in Harry's chair; then he patted his lap, watching with amusement the expressions that chased across Harry's face, like cloud shadows on a landscape. Firstly there was bemusement, then outrage, then a sigh, and finally acceptance.

His charge seated himself gingerly on Severus' lap, trying to keep as much weight on his feet…and off Severus’ knees, as possible. Severus was having none of that; he pulled the boy back so that he was cradled in the crook of Severus’ right arm, his feet barely touching the ground, then he rested the book on the boy's knees and opened the first page.

Severus was very proud of his collection of Persian miniatures. Beautifully and skilfully painted in rich, jewel-like colours, they predominantly depicted homosexual couples in the midst of sexual acts. Far more realistic than the drawings in the book that Harry had been reading earlier, the colours so bright the illustrations seemed to jump off the page.

There were two small pictures mounted on each leaf, the black background setting off the colours to great advantage.

Slowly Severus turned the pages of the book, revealing more of the graphic images.

Having Harry seated on his knee was enough to wake Severus' prick, and he knew Harry must be well aware of his arousal, poking, as it had to be, against the boy's thigh.

Harry drew in a breath.

"They're beautiful!"

It was not the reaction that Severus had expected; it was far more pleasing. That the boy could appreciate the art…look beyond the obvious, graphic nature of the pictures… Severus was impressed.

And incredibly aroused as Harry squirmed on his lap. "Stand up," he ordered, huskily.

Harry glanced around at him, his lips mere inches from Severus'. But he wouldn't kiss the boy; that was an inappropriate familiarity.

"Stand," he repeated.

Harry got slowly to his feet and Severus noted the slightly parted lips, the increased rapidity of breath. "Undress."

Harry swallowed, then, his eyes never leaving Severus', began to unfasten his clothing.

Severus watched, fascinated, as the boy's flesh was revealed, inch by tantalising inch: firm, pale planes; a nearly hairless chest with just a smattering of dark hair around the already aroused rosy nipples; a thin line of hair that led tantalisingly into the boy's trousers…trousers that he was, even now, unfastening and lowering, having toed off his shoes and removed his stockings.

Severus caught his breath as Harry's prick sprang out, fully erect and seemingly eager for attention. He resisted the urge to lean forward and take it in his hand.

"Lie down." Severus gestured to the fireside rug, indicating that Harry should take his place on it.

Harry paused momentarily, then lowered himself down, stretching out so that his feet were between Severus' own. Severus reached behind him and extracted a cushion from the chair.

He tossed it to the boy. "Put this under your head."

Harry complied with the order, and for a few moments Severus enjoyed the mouth-watering view of Harry sprawled naked at his feet, the firelight glowing lovingly on his skin. Long slim limbs, the firm musculature adding definition but not bulk, a flat stomach…a prick that was hardening still further under Severus’ heated gaze…a feast.

"Pleasure yourself," he instructed.

Harry' eyes went round and he opened his mouth as if to argue.

"Disobeying me, Harry?" Severus asked dangerously.

The boy shut his mouth abruptly…then slowly a hand crept down his body and took hold of that beautiful erection. He began to stroke slowly up and down, occasionally sweeping his thumb over the already moistened tip. His eyelids fluttered.

"Keep your eyes open…look at me." Severus demanded.

Harry complied; his gaze now fixed on his host.

"Like this?" he whispered.

Severus nodded, swallowing around the desire that was drying his mouth. "Yes, Harry, just like that."

The hand began to move more quickly, and Severus noted that the boy's fingers were now curled tightly around the column of flesh. Harry’s breath quickened, coming in gasps that matched his pumping hand, and Severus guessed he must be close to his attainment. A low moan sounded from Harry's mouth, his eyelids closing as he jerked his hips to thrust more fully into his clenching hand.

Severus could take no more. With a loss of control so totally unlike him, he hastily unbuttoned the placket on his trousers and released his own throbbing cock. Then he slipped off his chair onto his knees, knocked the boy's hands to one side, and flung himself on the supine figure before him.

Harry made a startled gasp as Severus' hips pressed down, grinding their erections together, then he released a moan of need and his hands came up to grip Severus’ shoulders. For a moment, Severus was unsure if Harry intended to hold him closer or push him away, but then the fingers dug into tighter and pulled Severus down.

The older man rubbed and thrust, circling his hips, providing the friction they both needed to come. Harry's naked body was warm and willing beneath him, and it didn't take Severus long before his climax rushed on him. He sank his mouth onto Harry's neck, muting the cry that tore from his lips.

Harry was close behind him, thrusting up hard as he reached his own attainment, breath coming in gasps from between the parted lips. 

As his own breathing steadied, Severus rolled off Harry's body and withdrew a large handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped the sticky semen from Harry's stomach, attended to his own mess, and then threw the soaked silk into the fire.

Harry was now in a semi-doze, and Severus languidly watched the rise and fall of the boy's chest for some minutes before propping himself on an elbow and reaching out to delicately trace around his charge's nipples.

Harry's eyes opened, but he made no attempt to move away; instead he smiled slowly.

"That was…was really nice," he said shyly.

"Hmm." His post-orgasmic haze clearing slightly now, Severus began to worry about his loss of restraint.

He should have been in charge in this situation, but something about the boy, about _Harry_ had…well, it had _unravelled_ him, made him lose that control he prided himself on.

He swiftly got to his feet. "It's late, time for bed."

Harry climbed almost groggily to his feet, a stunned look on his face. "Bed? Oh, right. Yes." He began to gather up his clothes and put them on. Severus halted him. 

"The servants will be abed, there is no need to dress…just go."

Harry's face showed his hurt and dismay. "I'll, I'll see you in the morning then. Goodnight." He made his way to the door, and then paused, almost as if he were hoping that Severus would call him back. His face fell a little further and Severus had to hold tight to his emotions to stop himself from striding to the door and dragging the boy upstairs to his own room.

"Good night," he said firmly, hoping desperately that Harry would leave.

He did, and Severus was left staring into the dying fire, wondering what the hell he was going to do.

********

Harry made his way to his bedroom, unconscious of his nudity, his mind too full of what had just happened. Once again, Severus had managed to discompose him, but this time Harry had a feeling that Severus had discomposed himself. He had sensed a loss of control in the man. Almost sure that Severus had intended for Harry to bring himself off whilst being watched, Harry realised that by joining him on the rug and precipitating the boy's release himself, at the same time bringing about his own climax, the older man had somehow suffered a loss of restraint. Then, on becoming aware of what he had done, he had withdrawn from Harry, Ordered him away.

He sighed as he reached his bedroom and entered, throwing his clothes carelessly onto a nearby chair. As he shrugged on his nightshirt, Harry wondered why things had to be so complicated. His emotions were a mess, swirling around in his head, offering the possibility that he was developing feelings for Severus, suggesting that perhaps his willingness to comply with Severus’ wishes had very little to do with wanting to fulfil his mission anymore, and rather more to do with the fact that he desired the man. Harry refused to acknowledge that that could be a possibility.

********

The following morning at breakfast, there was an awkward silence. Severus had greeted Harry cordially enough, then he had retreated behind a book until Dobby entered, bearing a silver salver.

"A missive, sir," he said, bowing as he presented the tray to Severus.

The letter caused a frown to crease Severus’ brow.

"I must visit my country seat; I should be away for one night." He paused, as if weighing up his next words. "You may join me if you wish…or return home if you have come to the sensible conclusion that the Hellfire Club can go on very well without you as a member."

"I would be happy to join you," Harry said obstinately, ignoring the second part of Severus' sentence. He was not about to give up on his…his _training_ just yet. Not if it meant he would get to spend more time with Severus. 

Severus raised his eyes from the letter in his hand and glared at Harry for a moment. "As you wish," he muttered. "We shall depart in one hour, I'll arrange for a bag to be packed for you."

He got up from the table, throwing his napkin down. "I'll meet you in the hall." He stalked from the room, leaving Harry to eat his breakfast alone.

********

They met as arranged and Severus led the way out to the carriage. He was dressed in a long black traveling cloak that swirled impressively around him as he walked. The little tiger tugged his forelock at them from his seat, and the footman let down the step and assisted them into the carriage. Four black horses harnessed in front pawed the ground as if eager to be off.

For the first hour they sat in silence. Severus gave his attention to a wallet of papers he had brought with him, leaving Harry no alternative but to watch the landscape unfold from the carriage window. Eventually, however, Severus folded the papers away and turned his attention to his charge.

"My residence is some way out of town. I am afraid it will take most of the day to reach, but we will, of course, be stopping to change the horses at a suitable posting stage."

Harry nodded. "That's all right, I quite enjoy traveling…seeing new places."

"Have you done the Grand Tour?" Severus enquired.

Now Harry shook his head sadly. "No. I very much wanted to, but my best friend, Ronald Weasley…the only one I really wanted to travel with, couldn't afford the trip. I offered to pay, but he and his family don't like to accept what they consider charity."

"Ronald Weasley," Severus said slowly. "He wouldn't be one of Arthur Weasley's spawn, would he? The incumbent at Ottery St Catchpole?"

"Yes," Harry said excitedly. "Do you know him?"

“I know Arthur…vaguely, but not any of his children.”

“Well, Ronald is my best friend,” Harry enthused. “We were at school together. I really wanted him to go on the tour with me…” he trailed off.

“But he wouldn’t accept you paying for him and so you didn’t go,” Severus finished.

Harry looked wistful. “And I did so want to see the Parthenon, and the Acropolis and all the museums and galleries…and everything.” He retuned his attention to the window.

“We should be stopping for luncheon in about an hour,” Severus supplied, having drawn his watch from his pocket and scrutinized it.

Harry nodded, his attention still fixed on the scenery.

“Perhaps you can think of some way to entertain us?” Severus queried. “Or should I say…me?”

Harry turned to his companion, and any reply he might have had made died on his lips when he saw the expression on Severus’ face…and the finger that pointed between the older man’s thighs.

Severus began to slowly undo the placket of his trousers, a cruel smile on his lips. One eyebrow rose at Harry’s consternation…he paused in his unbuttoning. “No?”

Harry swallowed hard, then shook his head. “No, I mean, yes, if that is what you wish.”

“Oh, it is, Harry, it is.” Severus finished undoing his trousers and sat back on the seat…obviously waiting for Harry to make his move.

The boy got off his seat and positioned himself between the older man’s spread legs, his knees hard on the rocking floor of the carriage. He reached delicately into Severus’ trousers, fishing for the man’s erection…it soon met his questing fingers and Harry drew forth the hard length. His breath ghosted over the prick as his eyes took in its shape and colour, from the dark curls at its base, up the flushed length, to the purple end already moist with pre-come…and suddenly Harry wanted nothing more than to taste, touch, feel, with his mouth and tongue.

He began by sweeping his tongue over the flushed head, marveling at the taste sensations that exploded in his mouth, the slight saltiness of the glittering drops, followed by the more subtle taste of flesh, as dark and enigmatic as the man himself. Then, trying to remember what Severus had done to him in the library, he slipped the entire length into his mouth, as far as it would go before it hit the back of his throat and triggered his gag-reflex.

“Remember to cover your teeth.” Severus’ voice was a hypnotic whisper, and Harry obediently sheathed his teeth with his lips, thankful that he hadn’t grazed Severus on his way down the man’s length. Again recalling his lesson in the library, Harry hollowed his cheeks as he sucked on the older man’s prick, at the same time flicking his tongue over the parts that he could reach. He was rewarded by a long, draw-out groan.

“Oh yes, Harry, yes.”

Harry used one hand to grip the base of Severus’ prick, the other he reached down and tentatively took hold of Severus’ balls, gently kneading them in time with his suckling mouth, assuming that what brought him pleasure when he masturbated would bring Severus pleasure now. He began to bob his head, every now and then releasing Severus’ prick entirely and flicking the tip with his tongue, tasting again the man’s juices.

The carriage lurched to a sudden halt.

“Stand and deliver.”

Harry pulled away from his mouthful and stared frantically out of the window. He would have risen, but Severus had grasped him by the back of the neck and held him firm.

There was a pistol shot and a brief cry, and then the carriage door was wrenched open.

“Well, well, well, what do we have ‘ere…a nob and his…catamite… _what_ a pretty picture.” The voice was harsh and uncouth. “I’m sure you… _gen’lemen_ would rather just ‘and over your baubles than cause me any trouble, and then I can let you go on your merry way?”

Severus gasped, and then said in false falsetto voice, “Oh my, a highwayman. Oh, oh, don’t harm us, kind sir. I’m sure my _friend_ and I want no trouble; let me get my purse for you. Oh, I’m all a-flutter.” He reached into the pocket of his cloak.

Harry watched the small round end of the highwayman’s pistol follow the movement and glanced quickly at the masked man. He felt a jolt of recognition, although he failed to understand how he could recognize anyone beneath the mask…perhaps it was something to do with the heavy build or the voice.

“’Urry up!” The man ordered.

Severus gave a squeal of terror and withdrew his hand from his pocket.

There was a flash of light and a deafening boom by Harry’s head, and he knew no more.

********

“Gently!” Severus instructed in a harsh whisper. The two servants deposited the supine form on the bed and backed gratefully from the room, thankful to have discharged their duty.

Severus bent over Harry’s unconscious body, tender fingers tracing the oozing wound on the boy’s forehead. When he had fired at the highwayman, the pistol had recoiled and struck Harry a blow on the head, knocking him unconscious. Severus sighed impatiently. He had ordered warm water and cloths to be brought up to the room at the inn, also his small bag from off the coach, and both seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to arrive.

Finally a serving wench appeared with a jug of water and a bowl, followed by Severus’ footman carrying a small black bag. The girl placed the bowl on a side table, filled it from the jug, then brought the water to Severus, along with the cloths. Then she hurried from the room, as if unwilling to spend any more time than absolutely necessary with the irascible man who had stormed into the inn and demanded the best room.

The footman, used to his Master’s ways, set the bag down on the floor by Severus’ side and stepped back to await any further instructions.

Severus dipped a cloth into the warm water and began to bathe the wound on Harry’s head; it was a jagged tear and had bled profusely in the time they had taken to get to the inn. Severus had staunched the bleeding as best he could with a wad of material, but he wanted to examine the wound as quickly as possible and apply bandages if necessary.

Harry began to stir. “Sev’rus?” he moaned.

“I’m here, Harry. Just lie still.”

Harry’s eyes flickered open. “What happened?” he asked faintly.

“You received a nasty blow on the head from the stock of my pistol,” Severus replied. “Now, please do as you are told and just lie quietly whilst I attend to your wound. The quicker I can mend you, the quicker we can carry on our journey and reach my home…where we can at least be certain of clean sheets on the beds.”

Severus reached into the bag by his side and brought out a small jar of a faintly green coloured cream. Uncorking the top he reached in and withdrew a finger full, then began to gently apply it to the gash. Harry sighed as the unguent sank into the wound; a soothing smell of herbs filled the air. Severus finished applying the cream and then reached into his bag again and brought forth a roll of bandage. This he wound expertly around Harry’s head.

By the time he had finished, Harry’s eyes were wide open. “The highwayman? What happened?” he queried.

Severus looked grim. “I only winged him, dammit…but he killed my tiger, the bastard. I’ll see he hangs for it.”

Harry frowned. “Dennis?”

Severus nodded as he repacked the bandages and cream into his bag.

“Now, how do you feel?”

Harry struggled into a sitting position. “My head is rather painful, but I don’t feel quite as faint as I did when I first awoke. I’m sure I’ll be all right to travel.”

Severus regarded him seriously. “I have to admit that I would prefer to get on if at all possible, I can care for you much better at my home. But are you sure you feel well enough?”

Harry nodded, and then winced as if the motion had sent waves of pain through his head.

Severus tutted. “Silly boy, how can you expect to survive the rigors of a rocking carriage if you can’t even nod your head without pain?”

He bent once again to his black bag and withdrew a small purple glass bottle, then went to the jug of water, which had now cooled, and poured some out into a cup that stood on the washstand. He uncorked the little phial and dropped three drops of the liquid that it contained into the water. He brought the cup back to Harry.

“Here, drink this.” He held the cup up to Harry’s mouth. The boy obediently drank down the liquid.

“What was it?” Harry asked. “That you put in the cup?”

“Laudanum,” Severus said succinctly. “It should lessen the pain,” he explained.

He stood up and began to collect his things together, glancing occasionally at Harry who was getting slowly to his feet. The boy swayed slightly but managed to stay upright. Severus handed his bag to the footman, then went and placed an arm around Harry’s shoulders to assist him downstairs.

********

Severus was supremely grateful when the carriage finally turned into the driveway of his manor house. He had made Harry as comfortable as possible, but even so, the boy had gone paler and paler as the trials of the journey took their toll. The last half an hour he had spent lying on the seat with his head in Severus’ lap. Severus had been tempted to give the boy another dose of the laudanum, but was reluctant to do so until he could be sure that the previous dose had passed through the Harry’s slight body.

The servants sprang into well-practiced action the moment the carriage drew up at the front door. In less than fifteen minutes, Harry was ensconced in a large bed in one of the many guest suites. Severus allowed the boy two drops of the pain reliever, then bid him sleep. Even as he was leaving the room, his young charge’s eyes had closed and his breathing had deepened.

Later that evening, on reaching his sanctuary…his study, Severus heaved a huge sigh of relief and, after pouring himself a large shot of brandy, sank into his favorite chair by the fireside.

It had been a very trying day, of that there was no doubt: first the encounter with, and subsequent shooting of, the highwayman; then Potter’s injury. Severus had had no wish to enter the annals of the Hellfire Club as the only member who had actually managed to polish off one of the Novices during training.

He had been deeply sorry about the death of his little tiger. The boy had always been unfailingly cheerful, a real scamp, and supremely efficient at his job. Severus smiled regretfully at the memory. Dennis’ elder brother, Colin, worked with the horses here at Severus’ country seat, and it had been tragic to watch the boy’s face crumple when he had heard the news of his brother’s death. 

Severus sighed again and took another swig of his drink. He was not too worried about Harry; the boy may well have a scar on his forehead from the gash, but other than that, Severus was fairly certain that he would be up and about the next day. Of course, it would delay their return to town, but as long as they could be back by Saturday evening, then all would be well.

The longer Severus spent in Harry’s company, the more concerned he became. The worry that he had felt earlier at the boy’s injury had been disproportionate to the situation. Yes, Severus was anxious that his charge not be seriously injured, but it went beyond that; Severus had a horrible suspicion that it had something to do with the fact that he might well be developing feelings for the boy. And that just wouldn’t do.

Contrary to his initial expectations, Harry had proved to be a well-informed, entertaining companion. He could converse on any number of topics with fluidity and expression; he appreciated art, he had reveled in Severus’ library…on its own enough to appeal to Severus’ better nature. But he was no different in that respect from any number of men that Severus could count amongst his acquaintances.

What was different was Harry’s refreshing naivety. Had Severus been told a mere week ago that he was in danger of losing his heart to an innocent boy, he would have laughed and advised the informer to have himself committed to an insane asylum. He had been unprepared for the effect that Harry’s enthusiasm for life had on his jaded palette.

Severus stared into the dying fire; a servant tiptoed in, asking if he wished for it to be made up, but Severus shooed the man away, wanting to be alone with his pondering. He was tempted to go against his earlier decision and tell the boy he had decided not to continue with his training; perhaps he could cite Harry’s injury as reason for the termination. But neither excuse would stand up to scrutiny by Dashwood. Harry would, in all probability, be as right as rain in the morning, and so far he had done nothing that could be construed as disobeying Severus’ orders; indeed, the boy had started to respond with alacrity to the older man’s instructions. Could it be he had started to actually _enjoy_ his training? 

Severus allowed the thought to flit around his brain for a moment or two, until it spawned another thought; had the boy become more keen because he had feelings for Severus? At that, Severus mentally slammed the door to his imagination. On no account would he believe the boy could have developed feelings for the man who had discomposed him on so many occasions, and certainly not in such a short space of time.

Just as he couldn’t possibly feel anything for a boy that, should he approve Harry’s acceptance to the Order, he had every likelihood of having to watch being buggered by the other Brothers. Not to mention being prey to the likes of Minerva McGonagall, who would see the boy’s preferences as a direct challenge.

He needed to prove to himself that the boy meant nothing to him, and once and for all prove to the boy that the Hellfire Club was not for him. 

Getting to his feet, he went to his desk and sat down. He extracted a piece of paper and, inking up his quill pen, began to write a letter to his good friend, Lucius Malfoy.

********

When Harry awoke it was still dark, and for a few moments he wondered where he was until he recollected that he was at Severus’ country seat. A faint greyness had entered the shadowed room, and Harry crept out of his bed and went to the window; pulling aside the curtains he looked out over the night-shrouded grounds.

A faint glow on the horizon heralded the dawn, a pearly light filtering across the parkland and the gardens that lay before him. Stands of trees stood like black skeletons against the lightening sky, all yet to receive the dresses of greenery that would decorate them in the summer months. 

Harry sank down upon the padded window seat and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on the top of them. He marveled at the spectacle unfolding before him, the birth of a new day. From the palest grey, through myriad shades of blue, to the almost black of the sky above him where the last remnant stars of night could still be seen: the firmament was a wonder indeed.

He was startled by a voice at his side, and he turned to find Severus standing beside him, dressed in a deep brown velvet robe. 

“It’s been many years since I stood and watched the dawn. At least, _really_ watched it…not just noticed it on my way home from a party or suchlike.”

Harry glanced up at the older man. “It’s my favourite part of the day; it makes me think of new beginnings…you know, yesterday’s gone and today is the start of something new, that sort of thing. I suppose that sounds rather silly,” he added.

“Not at all. In fact I admire your positive thinking—too many people dwell on the past, despite the fact that there is nothing they can do to change it.”

Harry, who had returned his attention to the rapidly unfolding day, turned back to Severus when he heard the bitter tone in the man’s voice.

“Something you regret? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…I mean, I didn’t mean to intrude.” He flushed.

“It’s of no matter…I think that by my age I should have had to have led an exemplary life not to have _any_ regrets…and as you are aware, I am one of the Medmenham Monks, so I have lived a _far_ from exemplary life.” He laughed.

They were silent for several long minutes, both caught up in the beauty of the dawning day.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Harry finally enquired, suddenly wondering what Severus was doing in his room in the early hours.

Severus turned his attention away from the window back to Harry. “I have been checking on you during the night, to make sure that you were all right…after the blow to your head yesterday. How do you feel?”

Harry gingerly felt the bandages that he had, up until then, forgotten about. “Urm, fine. There’s no pain at all.”

“Sit yourself on the bed and I’ll take a look.”

Harry went and sat down on the bed, and Severus lit the candle on the bedside table, then, with gentle fingers, he undid the bandage and began to unwind it from Harry’s head. He frowned slightly when he saw the wound.

“It seems to be healing well enough, but I’m afraid that you may well have a scar.”

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, Severus.” Harry looked earnestly up into his teacher’s face.

Severus said nothing, but continued to regard Harry.

“Urm, was there anything else?” Harry asked tentatively.

Severus smiled. “Well, as it is still early, what say you we go back to bed?”

Harry swallowed hard. Of course he had known that it had to come sooner or later, and, if he was honest with himself, the prospect of having sex with Severus was nowhere near as frightening a prospect as it might have been a few days ago. He edged back onto the bed…only to let out an ‘oh’ of dismay when Severus turned and moved towards the bedroom door.

The older man turned back. “Is something the matter, Harry?”

Harry fought to quell the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks. “No. Only,” he went on, seizing his courage with both hands, “when you said we should return to bed, I thought you meant…together.”

Severus regarded him steadily. “I see. Well, as attractive as that prospect may be, I feel it would be more prudent to wait until I am sure you are fully recovered from your injury.”

Harry bit his lip, trying not to let the disappointment show on his face. “Of course, you’re right. But I feel perfectly well.” He peeped up at Severus through his long lashes, allowing what he hoped was a ‘come hither’ look to plaster itself on his face.

“Nevertheless.” Severus turned back to the door, before looking back to the boy on the bed. “Do not think to rise for breakfast; I will have a tray sent up for you. Sleep well.” With that he turned and swept from the room, leaving Harry lying on the bed feeling rejected and miserable.


	4. The Fourth

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

Harry did manage to return to sleep, and the next time he awoke the room was full of sunlight and a manservant was entering the room with a tray. He was surprised to find how hungry he was—the nausea of the day before was like something long forgotten. The servant arranged the pillows behind Harry and urged him to ring the bell, should he require anything further. 

After the man had departed, Harry set about discovering what lay beneath the silver cover over his plate; then he noticed a folded piece of paper. It was a note, from Severus, informing Harry that he would be out most of the day but to make himself at home, and that he would join Harry later in the evening.

Harry suddenly found that his appetite had decreased, and he picked moodily at the fare set out before him. For some reason, he got the impression that Severus was avoiding him, and he found the prospect of a day alone a miserable one and felt a sudden pang of homesickness. For a few minutes, he gave himself over to a thorough wallow in self-pity, but Harry had been blessed with a generally sunny disposition, and before too long he threw off his fit of the sullens and set about demolishing his breakfast.

An hour later saw him wandering morosely through the gardens that surrounded his host’s house. They were beautiful, well tended and designed with care and attention, always drawing the eye to some new wonder, be it a statue, a specimen tree, or a secret walled-garden, but Harry was oblivious to it all, deep as he was in his thoughts.

He had finally admitted to himself that he had feelings for Severus, feelings for his _teacher_ , he reminded himself. A man who was worldly, sophisticated and infinitely more experienced than Harry himself. A man who would probably find nothing to interest him in a callow youth completely lacking in any of the skills he supposed Severus would wish his sexual partners to possess. How tedious it must be for him to have to tutor and guide Harry when they were together.

Harry kicked angrily at a stone that had the misfortune to be on the path before him…it scuttled away and hit the leg of a boy kneeling by one of the flowerbeds. The boy cried out and clutched at his ankle, then turned a questioning look in the direction the stone had come from. Harry hurried forward.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted. “I didn’t see you there…not that that is any excuse, I should not have kicked the stone in the first place. I’m Harry, by the way.” He stuck out his hand to the crouching boy, who rose to his feet, eyeing Harry’s hand with wonder.

“I, erm, I’m sorry…” The boy held out his hand, palm up, to display the soil caked upon it. “I’m Neville, Sir. Under-gardener.” 

Harry grinned, happy to have found someone to converse with. He had never been one to stand on ceremony with servants; to him they were simply other people. At his home he had been on friendly terms with any number of the servants…behind his aunt’s back, of course. She would have frowned severely on him, _fraternizing with the hired help_. 

“Hello, Neville, pleased to meet you.” Ignoring the dirt, Harry firmly grasped the boy’s hand and shook it warmly.

“Pleased to meet you too, sir. I’m the under-gardener,” Neville reiterated, perhaps concerned that Harry hadn’t picked up on that fact the first time he had uttered it.

“You are the perfect person to give me a guided tour, then, aren’t you?” Harry smiled encouragingly.

Neville looked back down at the plants he had been busy inserting into the freshly dug border. “Well, sir, if you wouldn’t mind waiting until I just pop the rest of these into bed?”

“No, no, go ahead…wouldn’t want them to catch cold.” Harry laughed, then went and seated himself on a nearby bench and watched as the boy Neville carefully planted the rest of the small plants. He appeared to be of a similar age to Harry himself, tall, with dark hair and kind-looking brown eyes. It was a pleasant, sheltered spot in the garden, and Harry closed his eyes against the sun, feeling considerably happier now that he had the prospect of someone to spend some time with.

It wasn’t that Harry could not be content with his own company; indeed there were times when he liked nothing better. But when his mind was in such turmoil as it was now, then he felt better having someone who could distract his thoughts, who could take his mind off a certain somebody.

Neville finally got to his feet, wiping his hands off on the sides of his trousers. He bent and picked up the trowel he had been using and dropped it into the trug that had held the young plants. “I’m ready now, sir, thank you for waiting.” He bent once more to retrieve the basket and then looked expectantly at Harry.

Harry jumped to his feet. “Excellent…where are we going to first?”

Neville looked around, as if he were wondering where to start. “Urm, the Orangery is nice…and warm. There are lots of interesting plants in there.”

“The Orangery it is then.” 

The two boys set off along a grassy pathway between two high brick walls; although things in the garden had yet to start growing, as it was still early in the year, Harry could imagine how lovely the walk would be once the roses he spotted had put forth their blooms.

“Have you worked here long?” Harry enquired.

“Nearly a year,” Neville replied. “I lost my gran about a month after I left school…she brought me up, as both my parents died when I was a baby.”

Harry gave his new friend a sympathetic look. “I lost both my parents too…my aunt and uncle brought me up. As far as I know, I have no other relatives, only my god…. So how did you end up here?”

“Gran and I lived in a cottage on Master Snape’s estate; when she died he took me on here…I always enjoyed working with plants…it was very kind of him…I don’t think he really needed anyone, but he knew that I needed a job.”

“Do you still live at the cottage, then?”

“No, I moved into a room in the servants’ quarters here; the cottage was a quite a way away…Master Snape’s estate is quite large, you know…anyway, it’s more convenient for me to be closer. And it’s nice to have the company of the other servants.”

“I’m sure it must be,” Harry commented, a wistful note in his voice. He missed his companions from his school days. They had mostly gone their separate ways when they had finally left school; even Ron, his closest friend was spending more time with his bride-to-be. Hermione Granger was a down-to-earth, sensible girl —she would be sure to keep Ronald on the straight and narrow. They planned to marry in the summer, after which she and Ron were moving to town where Ron was going to join two of his elder brothers in a business they had set up.

“Here we are,” Neville announced, and Harry ceased his daydreaming and stopped to look at the building they had arrived at.

It was obviously newly built, a long, single storey building constructed of stone. The wall before them was nearly all glass, set between Grecian style pillars, allowing a sight of the greenery that seemed to fill the inside of the structure and press against the windows. A glass roof served to let in even more light.

Neville fished in his pocket and withdrew a key, which he fitted into the door.

Seeing Harry’s questioning look, he offered an explanation. “The Master requires that the door is locked at all times, only he and I have a key; he grows a lot of plants for his potions in here, and some of them are poisonous…he doesn’t want anybody picking up anything that might harm them. And of course there is always the risk that someone might leave the door open and let the cold in…a lot of the plants are susceptible to the cold.”

He pushed the door open and stood back to allow Harry to enter. Harry went slowly into the great room, marveling at the wave of warmth that greeted him and the incredible scent of plants. His eyes flew about him, taking note of the great palm tree that stood in the center of the room. Everywhere was greenery—from deep green, glossy leaved, ground hugging plants, to tall, tree-like ferns. Here and there were splashes of colour, flowers of exotic appearance that made it seem as if huge butterflies had alighted on the vegetation. 

Dimly, he heard the door close and turned back to his new acquaintance, picking up on something the other boy had mentioned.

“Potions? You mentioned that Sev…Master Snape…uses the plants for… _potions_?”

Neville nodded, his eyes wandering around the plants. “Mmm, you know, for his medicines and things.”

The boy obviously assumed that Harry knew his host better than he actually did.

“Oh, right, yes, of course.” Harry wandered further into the Orangery, loving the humid feel to the air after the comparative cool of outside. “How does it stay so warm in here?” he enquired.

Neville pointed to one end of the huge room. “There is a furnace down there, it heats water which is piped around the floor, see?” He lifted aside a bushy plant and beneath it Harry could see a metal pipe. Bending down, he put out his hand to touch the smooth surface; it was hot and he grinned up at Neville. 

“That is so clever!” He straightened up again. “I love it in here, the warmth, the smell of the plants…everything.”

Neville smiled at him. “I have to admit that I spend as much time in here as I can…so does the Master. There is a bench by the fountain if you would care to sit down.”

Indeed, now that he was listening for it, Harry could make out the sound of trickling water. The paths were narrow, nearly overgrown with the foliage, but pushing their way through, the two boys came to a clearing where a bronze, dolphin-shaped fountain spewed water into a large shallow pool. Brightly coloured fish swam lazily beneath the surface. 

Harry and Neville took their places on the bench, and Neville began to enthuse about the plants growing in the Orangery.

********

By the time Harry returned to the house, a luncheon had been served for him in a small, comfortable dining room. Although from the outside the house appeared very grand, inside the rooms were small and oak-paneled, which gave Harry cause to believe that the original house was probably Tudor, around which a modern façade had been built.

By the time he had finished assuaging his hunger, it had started to rain outside. Harry stared moodily through the shower-spattered glass, trying to decide what to do next. Neville had reluctantly informed him that he had to attend to some work that afternoon, depriving Harry of his new friend. He had liked the quiet under-gardener. Neville was obviously well educated and, once he had overcome his shyness, had proved to be an entertaining companion. But there was nothing for it…this afternoon he would have to find his own entertainment. 

And with the lack of distraction, Harry found his thoughts turning once more to Severus…and his feelings for the man. The new knowledge he had acquired that morning became another piece in the puzzle that was Severus Snape. So, the man brewed… _potions_? Medicines, as Neville had described them. Perhaps he had even made the salve he had used on Harry’s head. Almost unconsciously, his fingers went up to tentatively touch the healing cut. And he enjoyed spending time in the Orangery. Harry could understand that…he himself had loved the place. Had it been his, he too would spend as much time as possible in it.

Harry had been left quite a considerable fortune by his parents, and although he could not touch the bulk of it until he was twenty-one, he had access to the interest the money earned, which in itself was a not-inconsiderable sum. He spent several minutes planning his own Orangery when he could finally access his wealth.

Deciding that he preferred to be active, Harry wandered out of the dining room and set off to explore the house, trusting that anywhere he was not supposed to go would be locked.

He trailed along many corridors before stumbling onto one that contained a large number of portraits, and he wandered from one dark picture to the next. Severus’ father could never have had any doubt about his son’s parentage; he was a Snape through and through. Harry saw men who were the spitting image of Severus, glaring down at him from countless portraits. They all looked stern and forbidding; their wives and offspring, if pictured at all, seemed to shrink into the background. 

His study of the Snape men-folk was disturbed by the sudden sound of a raised voice, followed by a dull slap and a child-like wail. Tracking the noise to its source, Harry opened a door to reveal an opulent drawing room, the furniture of which had been swathed with sheets.

********

Before the fire stood a large, ill-visaged man who, at the sound of the opening door, had paused in the middle of raising his arm with the obvious intent of landing another thump on the hapless child he had clutched in his other hand.

“What’s going on here?” Harry demanded.

The man slowly lowered his hand and gave Harry a searching look, as if to ascertain Harry’s right to demand anything, then, obviously deciding that the stranger warranted _some_ respect, at least until he was informed to the contrary, he touched his finger to the brim of the greasy, misshapen hat that had the misfortune to be perched on his head.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I was just attemptin’ to hexplain to young Albert ‘ere that ‘e ‘as to get up the chimbley, if it please you, sir.”

“If it please me?” Harry asked, incredulously. “You mean you expect this poor child to go up the chimney? No, it certainly does not please me…it is positively barbaric!”

Said “poor child”, sensing an ally in Harry, began to sidle towards his savior.

“Oh no you don’t, you little varmint.” Having released his hold on the boy whilst talking to Harry, the man now lunged out and grabbed the child with a hard grip that caused a wail of pain from young Albert.

“Stop that!” Harry demanded. “You’re hurting him.”

“He’s a bad lad, sir, he needs a good leatherin’…knock some sense in ‘im.”

“Don’t you lay another finger on him,” Harry shot back. Having been on the receiving end of his uncle’s fists, not to mention his cousin Dudley’s, on a number of occasions, Harry had every sympathy for the frightened child.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I likes to think that I know what’s best for me own lad.”

The voices of the two men had started to rise, and another voice was added to the general hubbub a moment later, when a woman with a starched white apron and bearing a set of chatelaine keys at her waist entered the room.

“What is going on here?” she asked in a voice of amazement.

“That horrible man is trying to get that little boy to go up the chimney by hitting him,” Harry blazed.

The woman spun around to face the chimney sweep, who was now fiercely contesting Harry’s version of events in a loud, strident voice. Albert, with a quick glance at the combatants, set up an unearthly screeching cry. Both Harry and the woman were now arguing with the chimney sweep, and no-one noticed the entrance of another person into the room until a commanding voice said, “Would somebody mind explaining why there is a small riot occurring in my drawing room?”

Although not said loudly, the voice held enough authority to halt the noise; even Albert ceased his wailing to stare at the impressive man. There was a moment’s silence, then Harry, the chimney sweep and the woman all began to try and tell Severus what was going on. They were silenced again by the lowering of Severus’ brows and the raise of his hand.

“Harry, if you would be kind enough?”

Harry launched into an explanation of events, and Severus listened without a trace of expression. When Harry had finished, Severus turned a baleful eye on the chimney sweep.

“Goyle, I thought I made myself quite clear the last time you darkened my doorstep that I would not tolerate your abuse of children in this manner?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but how else is I supposed to clean the chimbleys, bein’, as it were, raver too large to do the job meself?”

Severus gave the man Goyle a stony glare. “I fail to see why you should consider that to be _my_ problem. Now get your things and get out of my house.”

Goyle, cursing under his breath, gathered his things and made to drag Albert from the room with him.

Severus put out a hand. “Ah, no. The boy stays here.”

“What?” Goyle demanded, outraged. “But I paid good money for the little barstard and all he’s done since ‘e come is eat me out of ‘ouse and ‘ome. ‘E’s got the hopportunity to learn a career, ‘e ‘as.”

“And just how many little boys have you taken on to teach this _career_ to?” Severus asked in a voice laden with contempt.

Goyle had the grace to look slightly abashed. “One or two,” he supplied grudgingly.

“I should think the more realistic number is twelve or thirteen…and just how many of your… _apprentices_ have gone on to make a career out of chimney sweeping, Goyle?”

The man muttered something.

Severus did not ask him to repeat what he had said. “None, Goyle. And do you know why? Because as far as I am aware, none of your _apprentices_ is alive to do so. How many houses here-a-bouts have a small skeleton wedged in their chimneys? Well?”

Goyle made another attempt. “I never said it was a _heasy_ trade to learn.”

“It is a deadly trade, Goyle, and one I will not see practiced in my house. Now get out.”

Goyle got…leaving a relieved looking Albert standing smuttily in the middle of the room. He grinned at the three adults.

“Cor, that was bloomin’ marvelous, Mister. I never ‘oped in my wildest dreams to see old Gargoyle bested.”

“Yes, well…that’s as may be.” Severus glared at the dirty imp…which did nothing at all to quell the child’s obvious enthusiasm.

“Mrs. Parsons, would you be so good as to take this filthy urchin, bath him, and find him some gainful employment about the place?”

The woman bobbed a curtsey. “Of course, sir. I believe they need a new lad in the stables.”

“Barf?” squawked Albert. “I fink I’d raver take me chances with the chimbley.” With wide, terrified eyes, he began backing away across the room, but Mrs. Parsons was a woman to be reckoned with. 

“Come here, you foolish boy. A bath is nothing to be afraid of.” And she sized the lad and dragged him out of the room. Harry and Severus could hear Albert’s outraged protests for a good while after the pair had left. Finally silence reigned once more and Harry turned to Severus.

“I have to agree with Albert…that _was_ blooming marvelous.”

Severus allowed his lips to quirk. “Just as long as you do not concur with him on the subject of ‘barfs’.”

“Certainly not,” Harry said, then added with a straight face, “I enjoy my yearly bath as much as the next man!”

********

Severus had heard the faint sound of raised voices the moment he had set foot in his house. That in itself was strange enough…his servants were well trained in what their strict Master would and wouldn’t tolerate, and loud voices were high on the list of ‘do not’s’…but the shifty expression of the footman who relieved him of his cloak was even odder.

“What is that kafuffle, Pusey?”

“Indeed, sir, I am not at all sure…only I think the young Master is involved. Mrs. Parsons went to see what is going on, sir.”

“Really?” Severus swung away from the footman, swiftly crossed the entrance hall, and mounted the staircase that led in the direction from which the voices could be heard emanating. Tracking the noise to its source, Severus stood in the doorway and took in the scene before him. His normally stern, calm housekeeper was shouting at a scruffy looking individual that, Severus recalled with a sense of loathing, was the local chimney sweep. Her red hair was escaping from the tight bun it was usually contained in and she looked quite flushed. Ranged on her side in the argument was his young Novice. Harry was gesticulating wildly, equally incensed about some crime the wretched chimney sweep seemed to have committed.

For a few moments, he enjoyed watching Harry’s passionate arguing before interrupting with a quiet, “Would somebody mind explaining why there is a small riot occurring in my drawing room?”

Having listened to the subsequent explanation and dealt with the situation accordingly, he turned to Harry. The boy was grinning.

“I have to agree with Albert…that _was_ blooming marvelous.”

Severus quelled the impulse to join in Harry’s grin, but was unable to stop a small quirk of humour twisting his lips.

“Just as long as you do not concur with him on the subject of ‘barfs’,” he said dryly. And was momentarily horrified by Harry’s answer, until he realized that the young man was teasing him.

“Oh very funny Mr. Potter, very funny. Come. Let us find somewhere a little more comfortable, the stench of that man hangs in the air almost palpably.” He led the way through the house to a small sitting room he often used in favour of the more formal drawing room. Ringing for a servant, he threw himself into a high-backed chair and stretched his legs out, crossing his booted feet at the ankle. 

He regarded Harry steadily for a moment or two as the boy made himself comfortable in the opposite chair.

“So, you disapprove of the use of children to sweep chimneys, then, Harry?”

“Most certainly…it’s barbaric. Poor little things.” Harry paused a moment, then went on. “At my aunt and uncle’s house, a sweep called to do the chimneys…the house is very old and rambling, and I suppose the chimney system is equally so…anyway, the man had a small child with him that he sent up with a brush…the little thing never came down again.” All the merriment had gone from Harry’s face. “We could hear his cries, but couldn’t…couldn’t get him out.”

“The fate of many a small child, I am afraid. If I have my way, I shall stamp out the practice.”

There was silence between the two men until a discrete knock heralded the arrival of a servant. Severus ordered a light luncheon and a bottle of wine.

“I did not pause to eat earlier,” he said by way of explanation once the servant had departed.

“I had thought that you would be gone all day.”

Severus allowed a thin smile to grace his lips. “My business was concluded more quickly than I had expected, and rather than pause for lunch at an inn, I thought it might be more entertaining if I came straight home.” He watched the tell-tail red stain spread itself on Harry’s creamy cheeks as the realization of what that statement might mean made itself clear to his little Novice.

“Have you enjoyed your morning?” Severus went on, quelling the urge to laugh at Harry’s consternation. “I hope you found something to do?”

“Oh indeed,” Harry enthused, his face relaxing and lighting up.

‘Really’, Severus thought, ‘I must warn the boy never to play cards…his emotions paint the most vivid pictures on his face’. He allowed himself a brief reminiscence about how Harry had looked as he came, and promised himself to try and recreate that expression later. He tuned back in to what Harry was now saying.

“…showed me the Orangery. It’s wonderful, Severus, you are so lucky. All that warmth and those plants….” The boy bit his lip and frowned, then said, “Neville said you make…potions…medicines.” He looked warily at Severus, as if trying to decide whether that knowledge was something that he should have had.

Longbottom says a deal too much, Severus thought, but the cat was out of the bag now. “Indeed, it is a hobby of mine. I make salves, philters, tonics, that sort of thing, for my household, and others who ask.”

“Really? How interesting. Do you make them here? Have you got a laboratory?”

Harry’s interest seemed genuine, and Severus allowed himself to unbend a little more. “I do in fact have a workroom here…if you are truly interested, I could show it to you…after I have eaten.”

The boy’s face lit up. “Oh, would you really? Yes, I should like that very much.”

They were interrupted by a servant bearing a tray of victuals and a bottle and two glasses. Harry sat and filled Severus in on the rest of his morning whilst the older man sat and ate. Finally Severus dabbed the last crumbs off his lips, folded the damask napkin up and placed it on the tray.

********

Severus led the way downstairs and towards the back of the house. Pausing by a heavy-looking oak door, he withdrew an iron key from his pocket, fitted it in the lock and unfastened the door.

A flight of stone steps led down into darkness, and Severus retrieved a lantern from a shelf by the door, lit it with tinder and flint placed conveniently to one side and set off down the stairs. Harry followed him, breathing in the faintly damp air of the cellars and feeling a chill seep through his clothes.

The steps descended some way until they emerged into a large room lined with rack after rack of wine bottles. Severus paused, glancing about him.

“The wine cellar…some of my own and some collected by my late father.”

“Some of your own?” Harry queried.

“Yes, I have a vineyard in Italy. I inherited it from a distant cousin. Quite a lovely place…I make sure to visit at least once a year. The wines it produces really are of very good quality, even if I do say so myself. I shall request some for dinner.”

Continuing on through the room, Severus led Harry to a small door, set in a recess between two great wine racks; if one hadn’t known the door was there, it would not have been obvious. His host unlocked this door also and ushered Harry inside, then closed the door firmly, and re-locked it.

“Stay here whilst I light the candles.” Severus advised.

Harry stood rooted to the spot, watching the pool of light that contained the older man diminish as Severus moved away from him across the obviously large room. Then there was a brief flare and a bracket of candles on the opposite wall was lit. Severus proceeded around the room, pausing at intervals to light more candles. For a few moments Harry followed Severus’ movements, then, as more of the area was revealed, his attention strayed to the room’s contents.

Two long benches stood in the middle of the room, on which a startling array of objects could be made out in the increasing light. Glass beakers, metal tripods, jars of nameless substances, pipes and tubes that ran in a seemingly random tangle…even a large black cauldron. Ranged around the walls of the cellar were ranks of shelves containing more of the glass jars that Harry could only presume contained ingredients. A large fireplace stood in another wall, and Harry turned to this in time to see Severus stoop and set a light to the timber contained therein. A rug covered the stone flagged floor by the hearth, and a wing-backed chair was set upon it, over the back of which was draped a folded blanket.

Severus returned to Harry’s side.

“Come, let me show you.” He led Harry along the benches, pointing out things that Harry was too flabbergasted to take in, until finally Harry interrupted.

“You’re an…an alchemist!”

“Ah, no. Not strictly speaking. An alchemist is a misguided individual whose primary motivation is to find a way to transmute a base metal into a precious one…a rather pointless occupation, I have always thought, as it is of course quite impossible. No, my… _hobby_ has rather more to do with biology…the majority of the ingredients I use are organic.”

“And you have a cauldron…you’re not a witch are you?” Harry demanded suddenly, only half in jest.

Severus smiled indulgently. “No, my young friend…I am not a witch, although the more correct term would be wizard. You’ll be accusing me of having a magic wand next.”

“I wouldn’t know about that yet.” Harry slapped a hand over his mouth…appalled at his own effrontery, but Severus threw back his head and laughed.

“Well, well, young Harry, who would have thought that you had such a ribald sense of humour? Hmm, you may not know about my _magic wand_ yet…but I assure you that you soon will.”

Harry found himself on the receiving end of a smoldering look, and his mouth fell open as he took in the desire that shone so blatantly in his host’s eyes.

A moment later, he was pressed back against one of the hard wooden tables with Severus’ hot mouth at his throat. He groaned as he felt a firm tongue sweep over his flesh, burning a trail of fire on the cool skin. One of Severus’ arms anchored him around his shoulders, the other made a beeline for the rapidly swelling bulge in his trousers and began to caress Harry’s member through the material.

“Oh, Severus, yes,” Harry moaned, not caring anymore about how wanton he might sound. He had the sudden urge to be pressed naked against the man before him…and it seemed that Severus was equally keen to get Harry undressed as hands began to pluck at the fastenings to his clothes. All Harry could do was cling desperately to the edge of the bench as Severus efficiently stripped the garments from his body, then, once he had his charge finally naked, Severus stepped back, and his dark eyes fastened on Harry’s as he began to strip the clothes from his own body. 

Harry watched with fascination as the smooth, pale flesh was revealed. The broad chest with just a dusting of dark hair around the dusky nipples, a flat stomach where another line of black hair led down to…Harry’s eyes dropped…down to that column of flesh that jutted lewdly from its lair of curled hair. Almost unconsciously, he licked his lips.

********

“Come,” Severus commanded, reaching for Harry’s hand and pulling him toward the now merrily crackling fire. “We will be warmer here, and more comfortable.” Sinking down onto the thick rug, Severus pulled Harry down next to him. The young man stretched out, the firelight dusting his skin gold except where it was shadowed.

And now that he had the boy where he wanted him, naked and eager, Severus was almost afraid to touch… afraid to reach out and caress that smooth, firm body that lay so enticingly next to him. Harry had such an air of innocence about him that Severus almost felt, despite what had already taken place between them, that his touch would somehow sully the boy, spoil his innocence. Finally, tentatively, he stretched out his hand and, with the very tips of his fingers, traced a path across Harry’s chest, from one nipple to the other.

Harry arched into the touch like a cat, and his accompanying gasp of pleasure was all it took to snap the few threads that still anchored Severus to his sense and restraint.

With a moan of need, he rolled on top of his young Novice’s body and proceeded to treat one of Harry’s nipples to the delight of being engulfed and teased by lips and teeth, feeling the boy’s erect prick poke into his stomach. Harry urged up his hips, obviously trying to rub himself against Severus’ hard body in an attempt to satisfy the ache in his loins.

Severus, aware of just how strong his own need was, broke away from sucking Harry’s nipples and inched up Harry’s body until they were eye to eye…and cock to cock.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, suddenly serious.

Before Harry could open his mouth to lie, Severus added, “This isn’t the time for falsehoods, Harry.”

Harry shook his head. “No…I never…but that’s not to say I don’t want to…oh, Severus I want to…now…with you…please.”

Severus stared down intently into the limpid green eyes that looked back up at him…and broke a self-imposed rule; he swooped down and seized Harry’s mouth in a possessive kiss. Never before had he allowed himself such familiarity with one of his charges; a kiss was such an admission of emotion. But now he set himself to explore Harry’s willing mouth with a firm tongue, delighting in the wriggling of Harry’s body as the boy responded to him with a gratifying eagerness.

It had gone beyond Novice and Master…Severus permitted himself to acknowledge that. That particular scenario should have ended the moment Harry admitted his virginity. But this was different…now Severus had given in to a desire for the boy that had nothing to do with assessing his suitability for the Hellfire Club…and everything to do with Severus’ own wants and needs. Just for once in his life, Severus wanted something pure, something untouched, something unspoilt.

Leaving off his pleasuring of Harry’s mouth, Severus licked a path down the boy’s neck, savouring the flavour of skin and the faint taste of sweat. Lower still, to once more take Harry’s hardened nipples into his mouth, making sure that each one received the same amount of attention. He licked, tongue hard, almost stabbing the little nubs, then took them, one at a time, into his mouth, first nipping gently with his teeth, then soothing with a caressing tongue.

Harry’s arms came up around Severus’ back as the boy pressed his chest to the older man’s greedy mouth. Almost reluctantly, Severus left off playing with Harry’s nipples and continued his voyage downwards…to where Harry’s cock stood hard and erect…the pre-come bedewing the end, evidence of Harry’s pleasure and imminent release. 

Severus took his time, his long, slim fingers wrapping around the boy’s shaft, sliding slowly up and down, sweeping his thumb over the sensitive tip, using the moistness he found there as lubrication. All the time he kept his eyes on Harry’s face, watching the play of emotions. Harry seemed torn between wanting to watch what Severus was doing…and allowing his eyelids to flutter shut as the strength of his feelings swept over him in waves. His breath was shaky, his limbs trembling with the force of the sensations running through his body.

Finally Severus took the boy’s cock into his mouth, stroking the warm flesh with his tongue, allowing his teeth to graze up and down the shaft as he sucked. His other hand caressed Harry’s balls, before sliding further down the cleft between the succulent globes of Harry’s arse. The boy bucked beneath his touch, forcing his prick further into Severus’ mouth…and only Severus’ experience allowed him to take the column of flesh deep into his throat. His fingers delved deeper, finding the entrance to Harry’s body, and began circling, promising…making his intentions clear.

Harry came explosively into Severus’ mouth, flooding his throat with warm liquid…and Severus swallowed it as if it were the elixir of life itself. The boy’s cry on reaching his attainment echoed around the stone walls of Severus’ laboratory, and he imagined that he would never again enter the room without hearing a faint echo of that expression of joy. 

Leaving the boy in a semi-doze of post-coital bliss, Severus got to his feet and crossed to one of the shelves. For a moment he scanned its contents until he spotted what he was looking for…a small glass jar containing a creamy looking substance. He returned to Harry’s side.

“Oh, Severus…that was…wonderful.” A grin stretched itself over Harry face. “Would you like me to…you know…do the same for you?”

“No, Harry, not just now. But there is something else that I would like you to do.” He stared intently at Harry until the boy got the message.

“Oh. Oh, yes, of course.” Harry paused. “Will you…tell me what to do?”

“Enjoy, Harry…that is all you need to do…that and try to relax. One’s first time can be a little…uncomfortable, but I shall prepare you thoroughly, and if you keep relaxed for me, the experience should not prove to be too unpleasant.”

Harry glanced at the small jar in Severus’ hand. “Is that…?” 

“Lubrication? Yes, to ease my entry into your body. It is of my own devising…so you can be sure it is well made.”

He uncapped the small jar and a lovely aroma permeated the air. Harry sniffed appreciatively. “Hmm…it smells of…roses…and, erm, vanilla, and there is something else…that’s it…one of the plants in your Orangery.”

Severus was impressed. “Very good, Harry, yes, it contains all those things, and there are one or two other ingredients, herbs and such-like. Are you ready?”

Harry nodded. “Yes…yes, I am. How shall I? I mean what do you want…?”

“Turn on your side, face to the fire, and bend your top leg forward…yes, that’s it. Comfy?”

“Yes.”

“Good, now relax, I’ll prepare you.”

Severus scooped out a large dollop of the cream and spread it carefully over and around his fingers, making sure each one was thoroughly coated, and then he set the pot down and turned his attention to the boy by his side. He pushed Harry slightly so that the boy was more on his stomach, then with the cream-free hand began to caress the firm roundness of Harry’s arse, parting the cheeks to allow access to his coated fingers. He trailed them, slippery soft, up the crack from the perineum to the small puckered entrance to Harry’s body, then with one finger he gently, but firmly, pressed.

He felt Harry tense. “Shh, Harry…relax, remember?” The stiffness slowly ebbed from Harry’s body, and Severus pressed once more into the reluctant flesh; this time the tight ring gave way and allowed him to slip one finger into the boy’s firm, hot body. And Severus had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Slowly he thrust the finger as deep as he could into the channel, before slipping it out nearly all the way. This time his finger’s intrusion was easier as the tight muscles guarding Harry’s virginity relaxed, and he thrust in and out a few times, before adding a second finger. For a moment Harry tensed again, then once more he relaxed, and Severus was able to push deep with his two fingers…searching for that sweet spot that would send sparks of pleasure through Harry’s body. He found it…and Harry cried out as a thrill pulsed through him.

“Oh, God, Severus…what was that?”

Severus bent forward to whisper in Harry’s ear. “That, my lovely Harry, was your sweet spot…the place that triggers joy and pleasure…did you like it?”

“Yes, oh yes…please…again.”

Severus was happy to oblige…each wave of pleasure would relax the boy more for what was to come, and as Harry’s body arched in response to another pass of Severus’ fingers, the older man took the opportunity to insert a third finger, spreading the boys’ virgin passage, stretching the muscles, getting him used to the intrusion into that most secret of places.

Finally Severus considered Harry to be ready and withdrew his fingers. The boy let out a moan of loss. “On your hands and knees now, Harry,” Severus instructed. Harry did as he was told, turning his head to glance back over his shoulder as he did so. Severus sent him a reassuring look before easing the boy’s knees wider apart.

Taking another few fingers of cream, he swiftly coated his neglected prick, his own touch almost precipitating his release, so close was he to the edge. Then he positioned himself between Harry’s legs, one hand going to spread the cheeks of Harry’s arse, the other guiding his stiff prick to the boy’s entrance. 

He pushed in slowly, taking care to allow Harry time to get used to the sensation of being thoroughly and completely filled. The boy’s head dropped and Severus could see by the rise and fall of his back that Harry’s breath was coming in gasps.

“Breathe, Harry. Breathe and relax.”

He paused, giving Harry time to accustom himself to the novel feelings, then, as the boy’s breathing evened out and his head came up, Severus pressed forward again. This time he succeeded in fully inserting himself into the boy’s warm fastness. Then he paused, steadying his own breathing this time, for the sensation of being buried, balls deep, in this beautiful young man was almost more than Severus could bear. One hand had gone to grip Harry’s hip, the other he now ran up Harry’s back, his fingers spread, caressing the soft skin and pressing into Harry’s flesh with his fingertips, almost as if he were tying to reaffirm his belief that Harry was real. He swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the tears that prickled in his eyes.

He began to thrust, short and slow, changing the angle subtly each time until a cry from Harry alerted him to the fact that he had found his target. Now with each impulse, Harry became more relaxed, more responsive, until he was arching back into the lengthening stokes, his head thrown back, his back hollowing. A constant keening came from the boy now, and Severus delighted in this vocal acknowledgement of pleasure. 

His hands gripping Harry’s hips, Severus thrust and withdrew at a rapidly increasing speed until finally he could hold back no more. Feeling beneath Harry’s belly, he grasped the boy’s once more erect cock and pumped in time with his thrusts. He had timed it perfectly; as his own orgasm swept through his body like fire through a field of hay, crackling and blazing, Harry cried out and his hand was covered in the younger man’s own emission, slippery, seeping through his fingers and dripping onto the carpet beneath them. 

Harry sagged to the ground, taking Severus with him and they curled together, neither one inclined to move away from the warmth of the other, despite the fact that they were both dripping with sweat. However, as the sweat cooled on their bodies, Harry shivered and Severus dragged the blanket from off the nearby chair and covered them both with it.

Harry’s breathing deepened as the boy drifted into sleep. Severus, propped up on one elbow, gazed into the fire, his face solemn. He hadn’t meant for his final taking of the boy to happen in this way. If he had imagined it at all, and Severus had to admit that his mind had conjured up the scenario on any number of occasions, then he had pictured them in Severus’ huge four-poster bed. They would be relaxed from an evening spent together where the conversation would have been brought, skilfully on Severus’ part, to bed and goings on therein. Never once had he imagined taking Harry here…on the rug in front of the fire in his potions laboratory, where the guttering candles cast weird and wonderful shadows on the stone walls and the scent of herbs and flowers hung faintly, almost like a memory, in the still air. 

Harry stirred in his sleep, one hand reaching out until it came in contact with Severus’ arm, then it stilled and the fingers curled around the warm flesh. Severus looked down at the sleeping boy and wondered what the hell he had done. He knew he should never have taken Harry’s virginity, should have sent the boy packing at his admission of same…but he hadn’t…and what was more, he couldn’t bring himself to regret what he had done. Severus came to the startling and very disturbing realisation that he had fallen for the boy.

Harry stirred again, this time opening his eyes, and then twisting around until he was on his back, gazing up at Severus. He smiled. “Thank you, Severus,” he said simply.

Severus groaned and bent once more to press his lips to Harry’s.


	5. The Fifth

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

Harry slipped from the bed, careful not to wake the man sleeping beside him, and crept to the window where the open curtains had allowed the full moon to bathe the bedroom with bright, silver light. He had always loved the darkness, often spending hours at a time watching the stately roll of the heavens and the play of bats as they flitted like specks of soot through the still night air, and now he knelt down on the carpet by the low windowsill and gazed up at the glowing orb as it floated like a great white ship adrift on the dark, star-strewn ocean of the night sky. 

They had moved from the potions room straight to Severus’ bedroom, with the older man only pausing to order one of the servants to bring up a tray of food and leave it outside the bedroom door, and for the rest of the evening, Harry had experienced the heady, breath-snatching joy of being fucked by a skilful and considerate lover.

He thought about all that had happened to him in the last few hours. His first time with another man. He had expected it to be painful; how could something like _that_ not be? But because of Severus’ skill and care, the experience had been, although uncomfortable at first, both body and mind shattering. The feel of Severus’ hands on his body…the older man’s mouth on his nipples…he had never before appreciated how sensitive a man’s nipples could be, and he slipped a hand into the neck of the nightshirt he was wearing and tentatively touched an already aroused nub, sending a tingle of excitement through his body. The moment when Severus had finally entered his body…first with slick fingers, alerting Harry to the presence of that secret place inside him that had sent a blaze of fire along his nerves and left him gasping with mingled shock and desire, then finally, Severus entering him with his cock…his hard, throbbing cock. Harry gasped at the recollection and felt his prick harden beneath the hem of his cotton shirt.

Severus had seemed such a complicated man; on the one hand he could be distant, abrupt…even harsh. But beneath that forbidding exterior, there lurked a man who could be warm-hearted, generous and caring. He had treated Harry with tenderness and patience, making his first experience of sex a memory to cherish. If only Harry could work out what triggered the mood changes; he was desperate to try, wanting to know how to please Severus, to keep that smile on the older man’s face.

And then he pulled himself up. Here he was, thinking thoughts that belonged in a world where he and Severus were going to be together beyond the end of the week…and his training…and all of a sudden that time seemed to be very close.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up as Severus moved to stand behind him.

“Planning on being an astronomer, Harry?”

“Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, the light from the blue moon did that.”

Harry glanced up at the moon again. “The blue moon?” he queried.

Severus’ hand crept up the back of Harry’s neck and laced itself into his thick, dark hair.

“Yes, the blue moon. What you are gazing at, Harry, is a very rare phenomenon. You’ve heard of the saying ‘once in a blue moon’?”

Harry nodded. “I always assumed it was an imaginary thing…you know, if the moon looks blue or something.”

“No, a ‘blue moon’ is the name given to the second full moon in a month.”

“But I thought there was only one full moon in a month.” 

“The moon’s cycle is twenty-eight and a half days,” Severus explained, “and usually, because there are at the most only thirty-one days in any one month, there is usually only enough time for the moon to be full once. But very rarely, if a full moon falls on the first or second of the month, then a second full moon occurs in the same calendar month…a _blue moon_.” Severus’ eyes were fixed on the huge silver globe. “It is meant to be very auspicious. I have no doubt that old Sybill Trelawney is poring over her crystal ball as we speak.”

“Who?”

Severus smiled in the ghostly light. “Sybill Trelawney…she is a woman who lives in Hogsmeade, the village near here…claims to be able to see into the future.”

Harry let out a quiet sigh. “There are times I wish _I_ had _that_ ability,” he said wistfully.

“You are not alone in wishing that.”

The two men fell silent, their eyes fixed on the moonlit landscape.

“Severus, how long have you been a member of the Hellfire Club…and why did you join?”

Severus was silent for so long that Harry began to think he wasn’t going to answer the question. The hand at the back of his neck had stilled, and he could feel that the man behind him had tensed.

Then finally Severus spoke. “I was in love…very much in love…I would have followed him into hell.”

“Him?”

“Him,” Severus confirmed. “Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry’s mind struggled with the name. “Oh, the man from the cave…at the ceremony?”

“The same. As I said, I would have followed him into hell…instead I followed him into the Hellfire Club…and watched as he took lover after lover…and was himself taken again and again.” Severus’ voice had gone hard and the fingers at the back of Harry’s neck dug into his flesh. “I might as well have been in hell…I doubt the torments there could be any worse than what I endured. I thought my heart would be ripped in two.” The older man’s voice had now sunk to a mere whisper and, in the moonlight, Harry could see that his eyes had become unfocused as if he were staring into the past, not out of the window.

“I…I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly.

Severus seemed to suddenly come back into himself. “I moved on,” he said briskly. “We are still friends…and occasional lovers.”

Harry’s stomach clenched into a hard knot, and he felt a flare of hot jealousy surge through his body. The thought of Severus with another lover was almost painful to him, and he had some faint idea of how Severus himself must have felt as he watched the man he loved in the arms of another.

Harry fought to remind himself just why he was here…because he had a mission to complete, to join the Hellfire Club…and falling in love with his host was a complication he didn’t need. 

The fingers in his hair had begun to caress again, and now Severus said softly, “Shall we return to bed?”

Harry’s cock twitched eagerly, responding to the promise in the deep voice, and he started to clamber to his feet. A twinkle caught his eye. “What’s that light?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the pinprick of yellow light that had suddenly flared into life.

“It seems to be coming from the direction of the Lantern,” Severus said slowly. “Odd. Perhaps it is Hagrid, my gamekeeper; I believe he stores things in there from time to time.”

“The Lantern?”

“It is an old tower, reputed to be the only remaining part of an ancient castle…although I feel it is more likely to have been built by one of my distant ancestors. It has an odd, steeply pitched roof which gives it the appearance of a square lantern…hence the name.”

The stared at the light until a few moments later it flickered out of existence, then Severus led Harry back to the great four-poster bed.”

****

When Harry next awoke, it was broad daylight and the bed next to him was empty. He sat up and gazed about him, wincing slightly as his body moaned about the unaccustomed treatment it had received the night before. Harry wondered where his lover was, and was just about to get up and go in search of him when Severus entered the room.

“Good morning, sleepy head. Finally awake, I see. Good.” He came and sat on the edge of the bed and leant forward, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Harry’s head as he drew the boy into a deep kiss. Harry was just about to relax back onto the bed when Severus drew away again.

“If you are really not as averse to the idea as young Albert, I have ordered that the bath be drawn for us.”

“Oh, a bath would be lovely,” Harry said with feeling, suddenly becoming aware of just how unsavoury parts of him were.

“Good. Jump up, then.” Severus stood up and crossed to a large armoire from which he drew a midnight black robe. “Here, put this on, and some slippers…we’ve a short walk ahead of us.”

Harry scrambled out of bed and hurried to put on the robe and slippers offered to him by the older man, then he followed Severus from the room and down the corridor. He was perplexed when they continued past the door to his own room and on through a small door set in the oak panelling. A narrow staircase wound down to the ground floor, and they continued along a narrow corridor and through a small metal studded door until, quite suddenly, Harry found himself standing in the garden. He looked askance at Severus, but his host had an enigmatic smile on his face and simply led the way toward the Orangery. They bypassed the main door and continued around the side until another door appeared in the wall.

“Come.” Severus opened the door and beckoned Harry forward. He took two steps into the room and stopped suddenly. Severus’ arms came around him from behind. “Like it?” his deep voice asked.

Like it? Harry was amazed. He was standing in a large room that seemed to be entirely covered in marble tiles, in the centre of which was a huge sunken bath in which at least five people could have bathed in comfort. Around the walls were murals…scenes from Roman mythology: bacchanalian orgies, depictions of the gods and goddesses...all done in mosaics.

“It’s amazing…like a Roman bath house.”

A kiss was dropped onto the side of his neck. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? I have to admit to a fondness for some of the Roman ways.” Hands slipped the robe from Harry’s shoulders, and he turned in the arms of his lover and tilted up his face to be kissed. Severus obliged, then pushed Harry away again.

“Into the water with you, Harry.”

There was a set of steps at one end of the great bath, and Harry kicked off his slippers and went tentatively down them. He braced himself to meet the cold water, but was amazed to discover, on putting his toe in, that the water was in fact very warm. He shot a questioning look at Severus who was standing, arms folded, watching his young lover get into the bath. “It’s warm?”

“Of course…I am not quite so barbarian as to expect you to bathe in cold water.”

“But how…?”

“Do you see the pipe under the water?”

Harry squinted into the pool. There, down near the base of the bath, he could just make out the end of a pipe jutting into the pool…and then he understood. “The water comes from the Orangery? From the pipes that pipe it around to keep the place warm?”

Severus smiled. “Indeed. As the furnace is on in all but the warmest of weather, there is a constant flow of hot water; it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity, so I designed and had built my own little outpost of the Roman Empire. The bath is not filled all the time, of course; there is a valve that diverts water away from the main loop whenever I wish.”

Harry grinned and went down the remaining steps into the water. It reached up to the middle of his chest and he sunk into it with a sigh. Green leaves floated on the water, and he glanced up at Severus, a query in his raised eyebrows.

“It’s lovage,” Severus supplied, dropping his own robe onto a bench that ran along one wall. “The Romans believed it combated body odour.” Picking up a small wooden bucket, he placed it on the side of the bath and then came down the marble steps to join Harry in the water.

Reaching back into the bucket, he brought out a bar of soap and a sponge, then beckoned Harry to him. “Turn around,” he ordered. Severus then proceeded to wash every inch of Harry’s body, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, seating Harry on one of the steps whilst he did the latter. By the time he had finished, Harry’s prick was aching for attention, but on being handed the soap and the sponge, he proceeded to return the compliment and wash his host, noticing with some gratification that Severus’ cock was as hard as his own. As soon as Harry had finished, Severus took the soap and sponge from him and placed them back into the bucket. He turned to Harry with a look of naked desire in his eyes.

“Time, I think, to do something about that,” he said in a velvety voice, shooting a look at Harry’s prick, bobbing under the water. “Come, sit on the steps.”

Harry waded to the steps and seated himself so his lap was just out of the water. Immediately he did so, Severus knelt down on a lower step and, pushing Harry’s knees apart to make room, dropped his mouth onto Harry’s prick. Harry let out a groan of satisfaction. All his senses seemed to be focused on the warmth that surrounded his cock: on the feel of Severus’ nimble tongue as he wound it around Harry’s length; on the sensation of his balls being fondled and gently squeezed in time with Severus’ sucking mouth. One hand on his hip anchored him firmly in place when he attempted to thrust upwards, trying to get more of himself inside that caressing pleasure. Harry wound his fingers into Severus’ long black hair as he felt his orgasm rushing toward him and he came with a cry, any attempt to hold back thwarted by the older man’s talented tongue.

Severus raised himself off Harry’s cock and demanded the boy’s lips in payment. Harry could taste what he assumed to be his own essence in Severus’ mouth as he delved his tongue in deep, and it gave him a thrill of pleasure. To think that he had shared something so personal with this man beside him; he revelled in the feeling of abandonment. But now Severus was turning him over and reaching once more into the wooden bucket.

This time he brought out a small jar similar to the one they had used previously, the one that contained Severus’ homemade lubricant. Harry turned and smiled over his shoulder at his lover. “I see you came prepared.”

Severus returned his smile. “Of course…I did mention that I had a fondness for the Roman ways!”

Harry cried out as the first finger breached him, a strange mixture of pleasure and triumph. He was becoming used to this now, his body accustomed to the stretching process, opening now like a flower before Severus’ questing fingers. Behind him Severus groaned, then leant forward over Harry’s back.

“Your body welcomes me, Harry. It clings tightly around my fingers but gifts me with compliance to my wishes, my wish to enter you, to thrust hard into you. I have been gentle with you up until now…now I want to ride you hard, to make you cry out. Will you let me? Your body is ready for this, you are relaxed…let me take you, Harry.”

“Oh god, Severus yes. Take me any way you wish.” To underline his words, Harry thrust back onto the fingers that were slowly fucking him.

With a growl, Severus withdrew his fingers and with one long, hard thrust buried himself in Harry’s body. Harry did cry out, but it was in pleasure as he felt himself filled and stretched…yes, there was some pain. Severus’ entry had been almost brutal in its ferocity, but his prick had swept unerringly over Harry’s sweet spot, and bees of pleasure were buzzing along his nerves. 

Severus set up a hard and fast rhythm, slamming into Harry, his grip tight on Harry’s hips, hauling him back to meet each stroke. Such intensity couldn’t last for long, and it wasn’t many minutes before Severus came with a cry that echoed around the small marble room, driving himself so deep that Harry felt as if the older man wanted to split him in two. His own renewed erection throbbed and bounced as Severus thrust again, forcing the last of his come into Harry’s body before sinking down onto Harry’s back, his lips finding the back of Harry’s neck, teeth nipping a little before he soothed the abused flesh with a sweep of his tongue. 

For a moment, Harry thought his arms would buckle under their combined weight, but then Severus moved off him and sank back into the pool. Harry, his cock almost painful with need, followed him carefully, wondering if he should take care of his problem himself. Severus seemed almost dazed, his eyes slightly unfocused, his breath heaving his chest, but as Harry’s hand moved towards his erection, he knocked it away. Pulling Harry back so he was tight against Severus’ chest, the older man wrapped his own fingers around Harry’s prick and brought him to another shattering climax.

********

Although Severus had decided that he might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb, his mind was still on his dilemma as, after breakfast, the two men strolled through the parkland on their way to the Lantern.

By taking Harry’s virginity, he had broken just about every one of the Hellfire Club’s unwritten rules. His intention had always been to discourage Harry’s attempt to join the club by pointing out, in no uncertain terms, how a young, naïve gentleman had no place there; instead he had forfeited his right to cease the boy’s training by his own inexcusable behaviour. Even Lucius, who was known to test his Novices to the limit, would not have stooped to do what Severus had done. 

So, now Severus was betwixt a rock and hard place. On the one hand, he most definitely did not want Harry anywhere near the Hellfire Club; the other Brothers would eat him alive. On the other hand, if he denied Harry the chance to apply for membership, the boy had every right to protest…which would lead to Severus’ crime being found out and his most probable expulsion from the Brotherhood. And Severus very much enjoyed the benefits of belonging to one of the most infamous clubs in Britain. He enjoyed the easy camaraderie, the acceptance of himself just as he was, the opportunity to converse with like minds…even to enjoy the sex that was freely offered. After the first few months of hell that he went through watching the man he loved take and be taken, he had learned to reap some of the rewards for himself, and as his love for Lucius faded into a deep friendship, he had been able to fully enjoy the unique opportunities that being a member of the Monks of Medmenham offered.

“Is that it? I’m sure it is, and you’re right, it does just look like a lantern. What a strange roof.”

Harry’s voice broke into Severus’ thoughts, and he shut away his problems in the back of his mind and tried to focus on his young lover.

They had emerged from a small coppice and before them, in a clearing, stood the Lantern. It was a rough square tower, on top of which was perched a steep roof that slanted up from each of the four walls to meet in a point at the top; it did indeed look like a square shaped lantern. High up in one wall was a narrow window, and it was through this that, presumably, the light they had spotted the night before had shone. 

The two men strolled around the base of the tower, Harry gazing up with awe at the great stone walls.

“How old do you suppose it is?” he queried.

“I suspect it was built in the late fifteen-hundreds, although local legend purports it to be at least four hundred years older. The villages all say that it is the remains of a great castle, and explain the lack of any other ruins by saying that the rest of the stone was carted off to use for other building purposes. There are quite a number of people hereabouts who claim to have a piece of ‘th’old castle’ in their cottage walls…there are some who will even point out the famous stone to you.”

“Are you so sure that they are wrong?” Harry asked, a note of wistfulness in his voice, as if he would like nothing better than for the legend to be true.

“Sadly, yes, there are some old documents in the library that mention some sort of building being erected by one of my ancestors…one Septimus Snape. Although it does not specifically describe the Lantern, I am fairly certain that this is the building to which they were referring. Would you like to go inside…the view from the top window is rather spectacular?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes, please.” He grinned up at Severus, and before he really knew what he was about, Severus had taken the boy in his arms and was kissing him deeply, one hand reaching up to cup the back of Harry’s head, pulling the boy harder into the kiss; the other stole down and cupped Harry’s arse, pressing the young man’s hips forward. It was as if he just couldn’t get enough of his young lover…perhaps subconsciously he knew that time for them was running out, and that every moment was precious. He loved the way that Harry folded himself so trustingly into Severus’ embrace, tipping up his face for Severus to dip and kiss those soft lips, his groin pressing against Severus’ thigh, moulding himself to Severus’ body. Severus had been right; the boy was born for sex. From the timid creature he had brought home from the Priory, Harry had blossomed into a sensual, confident person, ripe for loving.

Aroused by the kiss, Severus broke away from Harry and said huskily, “If I remember correctly, there is a small cot in the attic room of the Lantern…would you care…?” He left the question unasked, but all the same, Harry pressed harder against him, nodding his agreement to the suggestion.

They entered the stone tower through a small arched doorway. On the ground floor was a large open room, illuminated by thin arrow slits of windows on three sides. It was empty except for a few hessian sacks lying in one corner. A stone staircase wound up from the floor, hugging the great walls, and the two men proceeded up them. The room on the second floor contained a number of metal traps that gleamed in the meagre light from the two arrow slits in the walls, and they passed quickly through and on up the stairs to the third and final floor. Everywhere was coated with a thick layer of dust, except for a disturbance on each floor which told of the recent presence of someone else in the tower.

The third room at the top of the tower was somewhat lighter than the others, having the benefit of the light from the larger window to illuminate it. 

“Severus, look.” Harry’s voice had dropped to a whisper.

There on the floor was a stain that could only have been made by blood. Indeed, when Severus bent down and dragged a finger through the mark, it came away with a rusty tinge on the end of it.

Severus’ eyes quickly darted around the room, taking in the tangled, filthy covers on the narrow bed that stood against one wall, the pile of harness in another corner, the stack of small bags at the end of the bed.

“Someone has been making themselves free with my property,” he said angrily.

“Couldn’t it just be…the man you mentioned…your gamekeeper?”

Severus shook his head. “No, Hagrid has his own cottage, and a quantity of livestock to care for there. He would have no need to sleep here.”

“Perhaps he had an argument with his wife?”

“He is unmarried. And as I mentioned, he has stock to care for and he takes his duties seriously. No, this is someone else.” He crossed to the bed and bent down to search through the small leather bags on the floor at the end of it.

Harry crossed to the window. “Perhaps it’s just a gypsy or some such. Goodness, the view really is wonderful. I can see your bedroom window.”

Severus opened one of the little leather bags and drew forth its contents, stifling a gasp as he did so. Straightening up, he carried the items he had found towards the window to examine them better in the light.

“I don’t believe it is gypsies, Harry, look.” On the palm of his hand he held out the small locket he had discovered. “And there’s more, in just this bag alone…see, a ring and a goblet.”

********

Harry bent over the outstretched hand. “But what does it mean?”

As if in slow motion, the hand holding the items uncurled, allowing the trinkets to fall to the floor, then Severus brought up his hand to his chest where a red flower had suddenly bloomed. He pressed his hand to the blood and brought it away with a bemused expression on his face. The next second he crumpled to the ground. 

“It means,” said another voice, “that you, my little Harry, and your _lover_ have been prying where you shouldn’t.”

Harry had dropped to his knees, a cry of dismay on his lips, “Severus? _Severus_?” Now he raised his eyes from Severus’ prone form and found himself face to face with someone from his past. “Marcus Flint,” he breathed. And suddenly the pieces fell into place. “You’re the highwayman!” he denounced. “I thought I recognised the voice…you used to put on that accent to amuse your friends.”

Flint laughed, waving the long, wicked-looking blade that was still smeared with Severus’ blood. “And there was me thinking you were too preoccupied with sucking your protector’s prick to notice. How the mighty have fallen. Harry bloody Potter, always thinking you were so much better than everyone else, reduced to the role of catamite, on his knees on a carriage floor with a prick in his mouth.”

“I never thought I was better than….”

“Or do you enjoy it?” Flint interrupted. “Is that it? You like having a cock in your mouth…and up your tight little arse?” He suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the back of Harry’s neck, fingers digging painfully hard into the tender flesh. Harry managed another quick glance at Severus before his head was brutally dragged around to face his antagonist. He managed to ascertain that Severus was still breathing, but there was a frightening amount of blood seeping through the fabric of his coat.

“Let’s see if you’re any good then…if you are, I may just spare your life.” Flint backed towards the bed, dragging Harry after him. 

Marcus Flint had attended the same school as Harry, although he was some years older…and altogether larger. He easily pulled Harry to the bed where he seated himself and opened his legs. Placing the knife to one side, he freed the placket of his trousers with one hand whilst the other tightened its grip on Harry’s head. His erect cock sprang out, darkly flushed with desire and already dripping.

Harry clenched his teeth, then hissed through them, “Very brave, aren’t you Flint? What’s to say that I won’t bite your prick right off?”

Flint regarded him stonily for a moment. “Hmm, you have a point, little Harry. Alright, I was going to save this until later, but no time like the present, as they always say.”

Grabbing Harry roughly, he forced the younger man up and threw him onto the cot. Before Harry could move, the knife point was pressed to his neck. “If I was you, Potter, I would keep very, _very_ still.” The knife was moved from his neck and quickly sliced through Harry’s jacket, shirt and trousers, then the clothing was wrenched from his body, leaving him naked and vulnerable.

Harry knew what was going to happen…and he didn’t think he had ever been more scared in his life. But more than worry for his own safety, he was concerned for Severus. He didn’t know just how badly his lover had been injured, and every minute lost before help could be sought was a minute that might bring the older man closer to death. But he was helpless; Flint was considerably heavier than Harry, and his hard body effectively pinned him to the dirty bedclothes. He tried to wriggle free, but the cold steel point of the knife was once more pressed to his neck, digging in deep enough to draw blood, which trickled in a ticklish stream down Harry’s neck.

“I’m sure you’ve been buggered enough not to need any preparation,” Flint said, then he laughed. “Well, you’d better hope you have, because you’re not getting any.”

Harry felt his legs forced apart by the bigger man’s knees and began to panic as he felt Flint’s cock-head begin to press against his entrance.

“No, Marcus please, don’t do this,” he begged, his voice muffled as his mouth was pressed into the grimy sheets, wriggling again despite the knife.

“You can beg if you like, Harry. It won’t make any difference…if only you knew how much I’ve wanted to do this….”

The prick pressed harder against Harry’s unwilling flesh…then Flint collapsed on Harry’s back, crushing the breath from his body, and he felt the knife point drop from his neck. Flint’s body was hauled off him and Harry scooted round to see Severus, wobbling with the effort, standing over him with a heavy metal stirrup clutched in his hand. Harry jumped to his feet and caught the older man before he fell, assisting him into a sitting position on the bed. Then, before Flint had a chance to regain consciousness, using the reins from the tack on the floor in the corner, Harry proceeded to bind the highwayman up.

By the time he had returned to the bed, Severus had once more lapsed into unconsciousness. Harry had little to no idea of what to do, but stopping the steady flow of blood seemed to be a main priority. He ripped a large piece of the bed sheet and bundled it into a pad, which he pressed against the wound, arranging Severus’ own hand on it to hold it in place. He needed to get help…and get it fast…so he struggled into the torn remnants of his clothing. 

He wondered if he should try to lift Severus, but when he made an attempt, the older man let out a groan and the blood began to seep even faster through the makeshift bandage and, besides, he realised he would never make it down the steep steps with such a burden. Laying Severus back down, he pulled the scant covers over him, then he bent and pressed a kiss to his lover’s temple. “I’ll be as quick as I can, Severus. Hang on, please hang on!” With one last searching look, Harry turned and scampered back down the tower. 

He barrelled out of the door, hurtled through the small wood and out into the parkland…straight into the most enormous person he had ever met. He would have fallen if the giant of a man had not grasped him firmly around the shoulders.

“’Ere, who’re you? What d’ye think you’re doin’…trespassin’ on Master Snape’s property?”

“Friend…of Severus. Up there…in the Lantern…unconscious,” Harry panted.

“What? What’s that ye say?”

“Mr. Snape,” Harry said urgently, struggling to free himself from the iron-strong grip of the man holding him. “He’s unconscious…Flint…the highwayman…stabbed him…I think he’s badly hurt.”

His message finally seemed to penetrate the large man’s mind, because he was suddenly released. “Quickly,” the man snapped. “Get down to the house…tell Mrs. Parsons.”

“But Severus….” Harry tried desperately.

“I’ll fetch ‘im. Go on now.” Seeing the worry in Harry eyes, the big man added more gently, “Don’ worry, I’ll bring ‘im down, you just tell ‘em at the hall to be ready for ‘im.” With that he turned and began to run back through the wood toward the Lantern.

Harry knew a moment’s indecision, then, trusting to his instincts that the large man could be relied upon, he turned towards the hall and set off at a run.

It was not a hot day, but by the time Harry reached the hall, he felt as if he had been running through warm treacle. He staggered up the stone steps that led to the front door and managed to get his message across to the haughty footman who answered his desperate banging, then, sure that Mrs. Parsons would be alerted to the situation, he sagged down onto a nearby chair and, putting his head in his hands, gave in to a very unmanly bout of weeping.

He couldn’t lose Severus now…not when he had just realised how much the man meant to him. Harry didn’t know what was going to happen when his training was over, but he was going to try his best to stay by Severus’ side, because he had a wild hope that just maybe his feelings were returned, and he was damned if he was going to give up on something that had such potential to be so special.

A pounding of heavy footsteps alerted him to the fact that the large man had arrived, and at that moment Mrs. Parsons bustled into the hallway, all efficiency and organisation.

“What happened?” she demanded of Harry.

Somewhat breathlessly, he started to explain that Severus had been stabbed by a highwayman, but he was interrupted when the great man carried his burden through the front door.

Mrs. Parsons turned to one of the footmen. “Quickly, go to the stables and send Colin to ride for Dumbledore…hurry,” she snapped, as the footman remained riveted to the spot, his eyes on his unconscious Master. The manservant roused himself and sped out of the front door. Mrs. Parsons turned to the giant.

“Quickly, Hagrid, take him upstairs…follow me.” She pattered off up the stairs, the man Hagrid following her. He was dripping with sweat and had obviously run, carrying his Master, all the way from the Lantern.

Harry leapt up from his seat and hurried after them. Severus was carried upstairs to his room and laid gently upon the turned-down bed, then the huge man, with a final glance at his Master and an admonishment to Mrs. Parsons to do all she could, left.

“Now, tell me again what happened.”

Harry’s breath had just about returned to normal after his flight through the park, and he was able to answer without too many pauses.

“We were in the Lantern…it looked as if someone had been sleeping there, and Severus was wondering who it was…he was searching through some things, I think, then he came over to where I was at the window…and he was stabbed by Marcus Flint.”

Mrs. Parsons looked confused. “But who is Marcus Flint…and why would he want to harm the Master?” She had been carefully stripping off Severus’ jacket and shirt as Harry spoke, and now she beckoned him forward. “Here, support him whilst I check this wound.”

Harry hurried to the bed and eased Severus into a sitting position, leaning the man against his own chest. Close up the wound looked ugly, a tear in the flesh that was by now matted with congealed blood through which a steady stream of new blood seeped. 

Mrs. Parsons had called for water and cloths as they had made their way to Severus’ room, and now a diminutive housemaid tiptoed in, carrying a large jug of water and a quantity of clean cotton bandages. She set them down by Mrs. Parsons’ side and scurried out again, leaving the housekeeper in charge.

The knife appeared to have gone clean through Severus’ shoulder, and blood was dripping down his back, soaking into Harry’s own shirt, warm and slick against his skin. He suddenly felt sick, although he was unsure if the sickness was caused by the blood or the shock of the situation. He shivered and a cold sweat broke out on his face. Mrs. Parsons glanced at him.

“Mister Potter! I need your help. Please, now is not the time to faint on me. Take a few deep breaths, the doctor will be here soon and he is the best there is.”

Harry did as he was told, determined not to fail his lover when he was needed most. The deep breaths steadied him, and he was able to support Severus as Mrs. Parsons firstly cleaned the wound on the front of his shoulder, then the entry wound on Severus’ back. As she worked, he filled her in on the details of the attack.

Either Colin must have ridden like the wind or the doctor lived nearby, because before too long, an extremely elderly gentleman entered the room with a black bag in his hand. He was very tall with a long white beard that he had tucked into the belt of the odd-looking long robes he wore. Although unable to explain why, Harry immediately felt a sense of calm flow through him. 

The man perched a pair of spectacles on his nose and hurried forward to the bed. He smiled reassuringly at Harry and Mrs. Parsons, then proceeded to efficiently examine Severus’ wounds. 

He had just finished checking the exit wound when Severus began to stir.

“Harry?” he murmured. “Harry?”

“I’m here, Severus,” Harry reassured. One of Severus’ hands curled around his arm and the fingers dug in tightly. Then Severus pried his eyes open. They met the twinkling blue ones of the man, Dumbledore, and for a moment a look of puzzlement came over his face. 

“Albus…and Mrs. Parsons?” 

“You’ve been hurt, Severus, my boy, Dumbledore explained. “Stabbed by a highwayman, I believe.” The old man cast a questioning eye in Harry’s direction and he nodded.

“Up in the Lantern, Severus, do you remember?”

Severus suddenly looked wild and started to struggle in Harry’s grip. “He tried to rape…Harry, are you all right?”

Harry, his eyes suddenly misted with tears, hastened to reassure his lover that he was unhurt.


	6. The Last

  
Author's notes: .  


* * *

Harry yawned and once again dipped the cloth into the bowl of iced water, then he carefully wiped the sweat-soaked body of the man he had come to realise he loved.

It was now Friday evening, and he had been here by the bedside for nearly three days, only leaving when Mrs. Parsons forced him to get some rest. Albus Dumbledore had stitched Severus’ wounds closed, applied a concoction of Severus’ own making, then bandaged the two wounds up. He had left instructions with them with regard to the care of their patient and warned them to expect fever to strike. Severus’ temperature had risen the evening of the attack and nothing they could do seemed to being the fever down; now Harry and Mrs. Parsons were beginning to be seriously worried. Albus had called by twice, changed the dressings and shaken his head, declaring that they were doing all they could and that they just had to hope that the fever would break soon.

Harry glanced up as Mrs .Parsons entered the room, a look of enquiry on her face. He shook his head sadly and Mrs. Parsons sighed, then shooed him out.

“Go on, Harry, you must get some rest. I will call you, should there be any change.”

Harry reluctantly got to his feet, stooped to drop a kiss onto Severus’ brow, then trailed unhappily from the room. It was already dark, but he was desperate for a breath of fresh air, and he found his way down the little back staircase and out into the grounds. It had gone cold again and the stars twinkled in a clear sky; the waning moon gave enough light to see where he was going, and without consciously doing so, Harry wandered through the grounds to the Orangery. When he reached it, he sank down on the stone doorstep, put his head in his hands and began to cry.

A tentative touch roused him from his misery, and he jerked upright to find that Neville had seated himself on the step beside him.

“You love him, don’t you?” Neville asked quietly.

Harry nodded, cuffing the tears from his cheeks.

“I love him too…although not…not in the way you do,” Neville finished awkwardly.

Bound together by their love for one man, the two boys sat in silence, taking comfort from one another’s presence until Harry, who had come out without a jacket, shivered.

“You should go back to the house,” Neville said with some concern.

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m not ready yet. Couldn’t we go inside?” He turned to look into the Orangery.

Neville nodded, fishing for the key in his pocket, and soon they were inside the heavy warmth, breathing the scent of flowers and growing plants. The moonlight seeped through the greenery and lit the narrow, winding pathways, and the two boys meandered hither and thither through the plants. Neville began to talk, explaining again what Severus used each one for. Harry was only half listening, allowing the soft drone of the other boy’s voice to lull his stressed mind when, all of a sudden, something Neville said penetrated the woolly fog of fatigue.

“What? Neville, what did you say?” Harry asked urgently.

Neville, who had, it seemed, been speaking almost randomly, gave a jump. “What?”

“What were you just saying…about some plant…and what Severus was doing with it?”

“Oh….” Neville looked about him at the plants, as if trying to remember what he had been talking about. “The Scarlet Bush? Hamelia patens? That the Master was developing a cure for fever? Oh! Oh, Harry, do you think…?” 

“I don’t know, Neville, but it is worth a try.”

The two young men flew from the Orangery, pausing only to lock the door. They chased to the house and upstairs to Severus’ room, where Harry frantically searched through the items on Severus’ dressing table, giving a bemused Mrs. Parsons only the briefest of explanations. Then, keys in hand, Harry and Neville tore back downstairs, down to the cellar and, finally, with much fumbling at the lock, into Severus’ laboratory. 

Harry had brought the lantern from the shelf by the cellar door and now, by its light, the two boys began to search the shelves.

“But I’m not even sure if he managed to do anything with it,” Neville wailed. “He’s not had the plant that long…it came from the Americas. There were all sorts of tales about what it could do…the reduction of fever was just one of them.”

“Just keep looking, Neville. At this stage we have to try anything. If Severus’ fever doesn’t abate soon, he may never recover.” He paused a moment in his scanning of the neatly written labels on the jars and turned to gaze intently at the under gardener. “And I, for one, would be very unhappy about that.”

Neville nodded just once and turned his attention back to the shelves.

They had searched through what seemed like several hundred jars before Harry let out a whoop of triumph. “Is this it? This is what you said, isn’t it? Scarlet Bush…Hamelia patens?”

In his hand he held a jar that contained a faintly green-tinged liquid. There were further notes on the label. In a bold copperplate hand, Severus had written,“For the relief of fever. Infusion derived from the leaves.” Then, in capital letters, “NOT TESTED”. The two boys looked at each other. “It’s all we have,” Harry all-but whispered. “We have to try.”

********

Mrs. Parsons was considerably less keen on the idea. “Harry, I know you are desperate, but we really don’t know anything about this bush thing. For all you know, it could be poisonous.” She shook her head. “I don’t think we should risk it…or at least we should wait until Albus comes tomorrow.”

Mrs. Parsons, we may not have until tomorrow,” Harry said desperately. “You can see for yourself how much worse he looks.”

Mrs. Parsons glanced back at her Master, lying on the sweat-soaked sheets. He tossed and turned in delirium, muttering nonsense. She bit her lip, then turned back to Harry and Neville.

“Neville, are you sure about this?”

The under-gardener shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’m not sure. All I know is that the Master was telling me about his research into the plant. He’s not had it long…seems to think that it may have various uses…one of which was the reduction of fever and the cooling of the body.”

“Please?” Harry begged, tears of frustration prickling his eyes.

Mrs. Parson gave in. “All right, on your head be it. I have to admit that right now things are looking very grave. Do you know how much to give him?”

Harry quickly bent to scrutinise the label again, desperately hoping that Severus had included at least some indication as to dosage. In very small writing at the bottom of the label was written, “Two tablespoons every hour until fever abates.” Added after it in brackets, “(possibly)”.

“Two tablespoons, hourly,” he said decisively, inwardly determining that Mrs. Parsons was not to be given the opportunity to examine the label for herself.

A housemaid brought in a spoon, and they all watched as Harry carefully coaxed the first dose through Severus’ thin lips.

********

Three hours later and even Mrs. Parsons had to admit that there had been a change for the better. Severus had stopped his fevered ramblings and his skin had cooled discernibly; he lay still and quiet in the great bed and, after administering another dose, Harry allowed his head to fall forward onto his folded arms atop the sheets and shut his eyes.

He awoke, as the dawn light filtered in a pearly mist through the windows, to the feel of fingers carding through his hair. He opened one bleary eye to see Severus looking back at him. He was wide-awake with no sign of fever.

“Harry? What are you doing here?” Severus enquired, with a quirk of his eyebrow and a half-smile on his lips. Harry felt his lips begin to tremble and the next moment tears began to run down his sleep-creased cheeks. Regardless of how Mrs. Parson would probably tell him off, Harry crept onto the bed by Severus’ side, tucking himself against Severus’ uninjured shoulder.

“Ssh, Harry, ssh.” Severus gently stroked Harry’s hair until the boy quietened. Through his sniffles Harry managed to gasp out how scared he had been. “I thought I was going to lose you, Severus. Just when I had realised how much you meant to me.” He wiped at his tears with his fingers until Severus grabbed a corner of the sheet and wiped Harry’s face with it.

“You mean a lot to me too, Harry…more than you should,” Severus added quietly. Then, before Harry had a chance to respond, he continued. “Now, tell me just what has been going on…how long have I been unconscious?”

Harry filled Severus in on all that had happened since he had been stabbed up at the Lantern.

“And what of Flint? Has he been caught?” Severus demanded.

Harry nodded. “Yes, I tied him up before I went for help…I couldn’t risk him coming to and hurting you again. Hagrid gave him another thump, I believe, when he went and fetched you, then some men came for him. He is in prison in Hogsmeade now.”

“I’ll see he hangs,” Severus said viciously. “For his murder of my tiger…and for the attack on you; the gods know what would have happened if I hadn’t managed to stun him.”

“He would have raped me,” Harry said simply, huddling closer to his lover’s side.

“And you say Neville remembered about the Hamelia patens?”

“The Scarlet Bush? Yes.”

“Clever boy,” Severus said with a smile. “I must remember to thank him. I always knew he was good with plants…perhaps I should include him a little more in the development of my medicines and salves.”

Harry yawned and closed his eyes, relief suddenly sending a wave of weariness through him. His listened with one ear as Severus made more comments about his potions, and before he knew it, he had fallen asleep again.

********

Severus became aware that his audience of one had fallen asleep, pressed tightly to his side, fingers wound tightly in Severus’ nightshirt. He smiled indulgently before a frown of concern marred his face. If his calculations were correct, it was now Saturday, and this evening he was meant to present Harry to the Order. He wondered what would happen when he and his charge did not appear at the ceremony. However, there was nothing they could do about the situation and, on the bright side, it meant he had a few more days of grace in which to enjoy the company of the boy by his side, who, Severus now realised, he had fallen ridiculously in love with.

He dosed fitfully for an hour or so before the soft creak of his bedroom door heralded the arrival of someone else; Mrs. Parsons peeped cautiously around the door, then her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the gasp of wonder at seeing her Master propped up on his pillows, awake and seemingly in full command of his faculties. She flew to the bedside. “Oh, Master, you’re awake…oh.” Then she too began to weep.

“Really,” Severus said with mock severity, “does everyone have to keep trying to drown me with maudlin tears?” 

Mrs. Parsons hiccoughed her tears back and smiled wetly. She dropped a belated curtsey and then said in her most housekeeperly tone, “Is there anything that you require, Sir?”

“Breakfast,” Severus said promptly. “Bacon and eggs…devilled kidneys…coffee…blackpudding. In fact, Mrs. Parsons, bring it all, I am famished and I am sure my young friend will be too, just as soon as he rejoins the land of the living.” He grinned down at Harry’s still sleeping form.

Mrs. Parsons tutted, as if noticing for the first time Harry curled up by Severus’ side. “Really! Shall I wake him, Sir? He may accidentally cause your wounds to reopen.”

Severus tightened his uninjured arm around his young lover. “No, Mrs. Parsons, you leave my little Harry just where he is. Besides, I doubt you could prise his fingers open from their rather tenacious grip on my nightwear.” He gave Harry a fond look as the boy stirred in his sleep, as if aware he was being discussed.

“Very good, Sir. I’ll have breakfast brought up directly, Sir.” Mrs. Parson dropped another curtsey and left the room.

********

By Sunday afternoon, Severus felt well enough to venture downstairs. Indeed, he had been willing to get up earlier, but Mrs. Parsons, backed up by Harry and Albus Dumbledore, who had come to visit his patient, declared that he was not to think of getting up until the afternoon…and then only for a short while.

“But I feel so much better,” he had groused.

However, now that he was downstairs, Severus realised just how draining his fever had been. By the time he had seated himself in his favourite chair in the study, he felt rather faint and was glad to sit down. Harry and Mrs. Parsons fussed over him until he ordered them, in rather abrupt manner, to leave him be. Then they backed off but seemed inclined to loiter at the edge of the room, watching him as if he were likely to suddenly keel over, until he lost his temper and instructed Mrs. Parsons to return to her duties, and Harry to ‘sit down before you plague me to death, boy’.

He had just about recovered his equanimity and was about to apologise to Harry, when there was an interruption. A footman entered bearing a silver salver on which lay a number of letters. “Your mail, sir, forwarded from town, sir.” The footman bowed, holding out the salver. Severus picked up the folded missives and began to try to sort through it with one hand. 

“Thank you, Thomas, you may go.” The footman left the room just as the letters slipped off Severus’ lap and onto the floor. “Damn it,” he swore. “Harry, come here and pick up these letters, would you?”

********

Harry obligingly scurried to Severus’ feet and retrieved the fallen post. He made to hand it back to the older man, but a return address on one of the letters caught his eye; it was from Madam Maxime. A lurch of fear swayed him as he knelt and he felt his breath quicken. Before he could do anything, Severus plucked the letter from his fingers and proceeded to break open the seal on the fold of parchment.

Harry stayed where he was, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe even. However, the reaction the letter caused was not the one he had been expecting. Severus threw back his head and let out a bellow of laughter. Indeed, he laughed so hard, it was several moments before he had himself under control enough to question his young charge.

“Oh, Harry…what on earth did you do?”

Harry toyed with the idea of declaring his innocence of anything that needed admitting to, but one look into Severus’ twinkling, dark eyes reassured him that he wasn’t in too much trouble.

“I told them I had the clap,” he confessed.

Severus guffawed, slapping his knee in mirth. “You told two whores you couldn’t have sex with them because you had the clap? Oh Harry, you really are an innocent…at any other establishment in town, you would merely have found yourself comparing symptoms with the doxy…you were just lucky that Olympe likes to keep her girls clean! Oh really….” He broke off, wiping his eyes with a large handkerchief he had pulled from his pocket. “But why didn’t you want to have sex with them?” he queried, slightly more soberly.

Harry blushed. “I just didn’t…I couldn’t…I think I had begun to realise….” He turned his face up to Severus from where he was still crouched on the carpet. “I think I had realised that women are…not…they don’t…not like you. I didn’t want them…I wanted you,” he suddenly blurted.

Severus’ laughter ceased abruptly. “Oh, my little, Harry, I could have told you that …the way you responded to me…I have to admit I was surprised when you returned from your rendezvous with a smile on your face…and disappointed. I was so certain that you felt the same way as myself…that you preferred your sexual partners to be male.”

“I…at that time I wasn’t really sure…I just knew that I wanted _your_ hands on me…not theirs.”

Severus leaned forward and with his good arm tried to pull Harry onto his lap, but a grimace of pain twisted his face. “Ouch, damn this blasted shoulder. I’m sorry, Harry. Right now all I want to do is hold you…and I can’t even do that. Gods, I want you.” His tone was fervent and Harry could see the desire in Severus’ eyes.

“I could…you know…if you feel _up_ to it.” Harry blushed, even as he quelled the snigger at his own rather risqué double entendre, indicating the growing bulge that was tenting Severus’ trousers.

Severus licked his lips. “Oh, yes. Gods, Harry, yes. Take me into that hot little mouth of yours.”

Harry was just reaching to fold Severus’ clothes out of the way when a discreet knock on the door halted him. He jumped to his feet and went to sit on the nearest chair as Severus’ called out, “Enter.”

The Footman, Thomas, had returned. “Sir, Master Malfoy is below. Shall I show him up, Sir?”

********

Severus’ face went serious at the man’s words. “Eh? Yes, ah, of course. Show him up.”

“Damn it to hell,” he muttered as soon as the footman had left. “Listen, Harry,” he added urgently. “You have earned the right to try out for the Order, just remember that…it is I who have done wrong, not you. I will take the blame for what has happened.”

Before Harry had a chance to question what was going on, the tall, slim figure of Lucius Malfoy had entered the room. He stopped short on seeing Severus’ bandages.

“Severus, my friend, what on earth has occurred here?” Then his eyes travelled to Harry…and went wide. “So,” he added slowly, “Minerva was telling the truth.”

“That depends on what Minerva has said,” Severus said lightly. “Will you partake of some refreshment, Lucius? You must have ridden hard to reach here from town so quickly.”

“Indeed, Severus. Some refreshment would be most welcome.” Although Lucius was addressing his host, his eyes never left Harry, who blushed under the scrutiny.

Lucius seated himself in a chair on the opposite side of the fireplace to Severus and, after one last searching look at Harry, turned his attention back to his host.

“Now, what’s all this, Severus? You have sustained some injury, I see.”

“A knife wound…nothing too serious, Lucius. Although the fever that it precipitated was rather draining…today is the first day I have been up since the attack.”

“You were attacked?” Lucius asked incredulously.

“Indeed, a highwayman saw fit to use my property as a hide-out; sadly…for him…Harry and I discovered his den, he discovered us discovering his den…the consequences you can see.”

“And what of the highwayman? I do hope he swings from the nearest gallows?”

There was a momentary interruption as the footman brought in a tray and drinks were served. Severus ordered that another place be set for dinner.

Resuming the conversation, Severus went on, “Not yet, but I will see that he does. He shot poor Dennis, my tiger, you know.”

Lucius frowned. “That little scamp? That is indeed a loss, I have been trying to poach him from you this last year and more!” Lucius took a sip from his drink, his eyes once more swivelling to Harry. 

Although the gaze was not unfriendly, Harry felt uncomfortable. He felt he was being assessed, weighed up in some unspoken way, and it irked him that perhaps judgements were being made about him that he had no chance of influencing.

“I gather that you are here on behalf of the Order, Lucius?” Severus broke the silence that had fallen. Lucius returned his attention to the older man.

“Indeed, you infer correctly, Severus, my friend. The members of the inner circle were wondering why you had absconded with one of their Novices.” 

“My apologies, Lucius, but as you can see, my ill-health prohibited our return to town in time for last night’s ceremony. Did your own Novice make the grade?”

Lucius laughed. “No, I’m afraid my Novice had decided that the Hellfire Club was not for him by the Monday evening. The last I saw of him, he was calling rather urgently for his carriage.”

Severus smiled. “Really, Lucius, do you not think that you push your Novices a little _too_ hard? Of the last six or seven you have had the honour of training, I do not believe more than two have made it through the week.”

“I merely do my best to make sure they are fully aware of what being a Monk may entail,” Lucius said easily, a grin stretching itself on his handsome face. “Am I to blame if my Novices put themselves forward for something they are then unprepared to see through to the end? Perhaps you also recollect that you invited me to attend upon you last Thursday?” Lucius continued, “I was rather put out to be told you were out of town when I appeared at your house at the appointed time.”

********

Severus suddenly recollected the missive he had sent to his friend, and the instructions contained therein, and his heart pounded at how close a call he’d had. Aware that his feelings for the boy had begun to develop, he had invited Lucius to join him and Harry for an evening’s ‘entertainment’ – his mind on one particular scenario that he had presented Harry with, back on that first night. Lucius would happily have obliged, and Harry would have run screaming into the night…about that Severus was nearly certain. Had they returned to town as planned he would now be without the boy he had rather rashly fallen in love with. A prospect that Severus now viewed with horror.

“Ah yes, my apologies once again, Lucius. This illness really has been most inconvenient. But as it turned out, your assistance was not required.” Severus tried to keep his face impassive under Lucius’ eagle eyes. His friend knew him better than anyone and could read Severus like a book. 

“I see,” Lucius said slowly, once more turning to face Harry. “So your own Novice has passed muster?”

Severus had not introduced Harry to Lucius, so now he did so. “Forgive me, Lucius, I forget my manners. Please allow me to introduce Mr Harry Potter. Mr Potter, Lucius Malfoy.”

Lucius lithely got to his feet and came towards Harry, who scrambled to his own feet, hand outstretched. “Pleased to….” He got no further. Instead of his hand being taken, he was enveloped in Lucius’ arms and the next moment his lips were possessed by Lucius’ very demanding ones; a tongue was slipped into his mouth before he managed to gather his wits enough to pull away. He could feel the flush burning his face as his gazed up in dismay at the blonde-haired man who still held him tightly.

Lucius laughed down at him. “Hmm, quite delectable, Severus. No wonder you are hiding him away here at your country seat.” He released Harry abruptly and the young man stumbled back and all but fell onto his seat. “Of course,” Lucius continued smoothly, “you have no intention of introducing him to the Order.” He retook his own seat, his eyes now fixed on Severus.

“Harry has earned the right to try out for acceptance,” Severus said stiffly.

“But my dear Severus, Harry here is little more than a child.”

Harry made to speak, but Severus’ upraised hand halted him, and he sank back into his chair, frustrated that he was obviously to have no say in this matter.

“Nevertheless,” Severus continued, “he has earned the right…as I have forfeited mine to deny him.”

Lucius frowned. “What? What are you talking about, Severus? How can you have forfeited your right to deny him…unless…?” A horrified look came over his face. “Severus, you didn’t? Tell me, my friend, you didn’t do that?”

Severus tipped up his chin in defiance. “Yes, Lucius, I took Harry’s virginity…and I don’t regret it for a moment.”

Lucius took a gulp of his drink. “But you know what this means, Severus? You know you will have to forfeit your own membership for his?”

Severus nodded. “I am aware that the Order will probably demand….”

“ _Probably_ ,” Lucius stormed, jumping to his feet and starting to pace the room. “There is no _probably_ about it, Severus. Your name will be struck from the records, you will be disgraced and….”

He got no further; Harry could keep silent no longer. “No!” he said loudly, also getting to his feet. “I won’t let you do it, Severus,” he added, casting a quick look at his lover. “I won’t let you lose your membership of the club for me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Harry,” Severus began wearily, but Harry burst in again.

********

“Yes it _does_ matter; I never wanted to be a member anyway.” There, he had said it…now the cat was out of the bag. The thing that had been festering away in his mind was out in the open.

Both men had turned to him. “What? Harry, what are you talking about…of course you wish to become a member, else why put your name forward?”

“I _don’t_ want to be a member,” Harry went on miserably. “And I didn’t put my name forward…someone else did…I was doing it for someone else.” He took a swift drink from his own wine before he continued.

“My godfather is Sirius Black.”

Both Severus and Lucius let out twin gasps of outrage. “That dog,” Severus snarled, his face a picture of loathing. 

“But what has he to do with this?” Lucius asked.

Harry took a deep breath. “Well, you know he was refused entry into the Order?” Not waiting for affirmation from the two older men, he hurried on. “Well, he took it very badly…said it made him look foolish, worthless; he was mad for revenge…that is where I came in.” Harry had moved to the window now, unable to face the two men. He gazed out into the grounds, noticing Neville digging away in one of the flowerbeds. The other boy seemed to sense he was being watched, straightened up and glanced around, catching sight of Harry, he raised a hand in greeting and a grin spread over his face. Harry waved back, a lump forming in his throat. Why couldn’t his life be as simple and uncomplicated as Neville’s undoubtedly was? He forced himself to go on.

“His plan was that I would try out to be a member, in the hope that I would get in…then I could bring Sir Francis down by exposing the fact that the Order had accepted an innocent youth into their ranks.”

“And bring whoever had trained you down with him.” Lucius commented nastily. “It seems you have had a lucky escape, Severus.”

Harry turned back to face the room…and nearly broke down at the look on his erstwhile lover’s face. It was a picture of horror…and betrayal, mixed with disbelief. 

“Harry, is this true? But how could you expect to get in…and how did you get approved to try out?”

Harry bowed his head in shame. “My godfather began writing to Thomas Potter under the guise of a distant relative of his, a certain Harry Potter. The Harry Potter that really _is_ related to Sir Thomas was twenty-eight, so Sir Thomas was quite happy to recommend me…I mean him, when asked.”

“But how could you be sure the real Harry Potter wouldn’t turn up to spoil your plans?” Lucius asked.

“He’s dead,” Harry said simply. “My godfather met him during his travels on the continent. He was drunk in some low tavern…down to his last few pennies. Sirius bailed him out…took him under his wing…but Potter died only a few weeks later…his constitution had been ruined. Everything he had he left to my godfather. He had spoken, bitterly, of his family before he died…both his parents had disowned him and cut him off from his inheritance. His only relative who would have anything to do with him was Thomas Potter.” Harry paused again, realising with every word he spoke, just how wrong his godfather’s plan had been. “Sirius saw a way into the Hellfire Club…all he needed was an accomplice, someone young and innocent…me.”

“But if Thomas Potter had seen you at the ceremony, he would have known you were no relative of his.”

“But he wouldn’t have seen me, would he? The masks we had to wear conveniently covered my face, and besides, he hadn’t seen his relative for some considerable time.”

“But how did you know I wouldn’t immediately alert Dashwood to your true age?” Severus asked quietly.

“That was a slip…I hadn’t intended to _admit_ my true age.”

“You meant to lie?” Severus asked coldly.

Harry nodded, a bleak expression on his face. “And Sir Francis was out of the country anyway, so you couldn’t have checked with him. Sirius manufactured a meeting in France that made sure Sir Francis would leave the country as soon as the meeting was over, just in case there were any problems. Then we just had to hope that whoever took me in for training would either think I just looked very young for my age, or would do as you did, Severus.”

“Assume that Dashwood knew how old you were, that you were considerably more experienced than you had any right to be at that age, and that he had some plan for you,” Severus said bitterly. Then he looked suddenly scandalised. “But you were an innocent…did your godfather know that?”

Harry nodded.

“The bastard,” Lucius interjected.

“That he would sacrifice you for his own ends.” Severus shook his head.

“But I had to be innocent, don’t you see? For the plan to work I really had to be a…virgin, otherwise it wouldn’t have the same impact. And I agreed…I wanted to do it for him. I love him,” Harry went on desperately. “For so long I believed that my aunt and uncle were the only family I had. They loathed me, constantly bemoaned the fact that they had to care for me, even told me my parents were worthless, penniless nobodies. Never once did they show me an ounce of affection. Then two years ago Sirius turned up, and I found out that there was someone else for me…someone that cared for me, _loved_ me. Someone that didn’t heap insults on my head every time they caught sight of me…didn’t enforce everything with his fists. I had someone to lean on…I was glad to be able to repay him.”

“He might not have beat you, but he was perfectly willing to have you surrender your virginity to a total stranger to serve his own ends. He should never have asked you to do such a thing. I always knew the man was a blackguard, but this beats all,” Lucius spat.

Severus remained silent and it was his stony expression that hurt Harry the most. “Please Severus…I realized some time ago that I couldn’t go through with the plan…but I just thought that when we got back to town, I would tell you I had changed my mind about joining the Order. I didn’t know that you shouldn’t have…that we shouldn’t have…but when you offered to give up your membership for me, just so that I could have a chance to join…I knew I had to tell you now. But I would have told you before it was too late, Severus, truly! I wouldn’t have let things go on…I wouldn’t have hurt you…not for the world. I’m so sorry I lied, so very sorry. Severus? Please?

But Severus turned away from him. “I believe it would be best if you returned to your room, Mr. Potter,” he said coldly. “You can return to town in the morning with Mr. Malfoy. You’ll take him, won’t you Lucius?” he added with a hint of desperation in his voice.

“Of course, my friend.” Lucius had risen and now he went to stand behind Severus’ chair.

Harry tried one last time, knowing as he did so that his words would probably be in vain. “I love you, Severus, please, please, don’t send me away. I would never have betrayed you…I couldn’t. Oh please.”

Severus refused to even look at him, but Lucius said, not unkindly, “I believe you have been a victim in this also Harry, but I think it best you leave us now.”

With one last desperate look at Severus, and feeling his heart splitting in his chest, Harry turned and trailed from the room.

********

He could understand how Severus felt betrayed, Harry thought, as he sat on the window seat in his bedroom, gazing out over the gardens, knees pulled up into the circle of his arms. He had lied, cheated and tricked his way into Severus’ house, and he would just have to accept the consequences that the discovery of his perfidy had led to. A tear trickled down his cheek to join the others that had already soaked the material of his breeches where his cheek rested upon them.

Harry would have done a great deal for Sirius Black, but disgracing the man with whom he had fallen in love was not one of them. Whilst he had told the two men downstairs that he had readily agreed to Sirius’ plan, that wasn’t strictly true. It had taken his godfather quite some time to persuade Harry that, really, it was in everyone’s best interests that Dashwood and the Hellfire Club be brought into disrepute; it was tolerated because of the number of high-profile, influential members, but they would be desperate to distance themselves from the sort of scandal that would have been caused had Sirius’ plan worked, leaving Dashwood friend-less and disgraced…a fitting punishment for the man who had slighted him, Sirius believed. That it would also have disgraced the man who had trained Harry was of no consequence to Black…the humiliation of Dashwood was his goal, and he would let nothing stand in its way.

To think that Severus had been prepared to suffer the shame his fellow Brothers would have heaped on him for taking Harry’s virginity, not to mention his probable exclusion from the Club…and all so that Harry could have a chance to be considered for membership. It made Harry feel very small and mean.

He grasped his knees tighter to his chest. If only he could have a chance to talk to Severus, to try to make the man believe that he would never have betrayed him…to tell Severus that he loved him…could never hurt him…. But really, that didn’t help the fact that his introduction into Severus’ house had been based upon a lie and that he had placed Severus in a terrible situation.

His eyes focused on the gardens once more…only to see a black-clad figure walk slowly over the lawn towards the Orangery. Harry stared at Severus’ retreating figure and came to a sudden decision…Severus might not wish to see him, but that wasn’t going to stop Harry trying one last time to get the man he loved to forgive him.

He hurried from his room and down the little back staircase. By the time he emerged into the garden, Severus had already gone inside the Orangery. Harry glanced quickly around, afraid that if anyone saw him, they would prevent him from getting to his goal. Then, seeing no one, he scampered across the grass and followed Severus into the hot, steamy warmth of the great greenhouse.

********

Severus felt hollow. The words repeated themselves over and over in his head, “I love him…I love him.” However inappropriate it might be, it was clear that Harry was in love with his godfather…that he had been playing Severus for the old fool that he undoubtedly was. No doubt he would return to Black’s arms and laugh about how he had gulled Severus Snape into thinking a young, handsome man could consider him attractive enough to love.

He unlocked the door to the Orangery and pushed his way into the heavy warmth. Taking a deep breath of the plant-scented air, he felt some of the tension lessen. The wound in his shoulder pained him and he felt drained; the muscles in his neck and back were tight from stress and his head ached with misery. He had made a fool of himself, good and proper, believing that someone as lovely as Harry could ever return his love.

For love Harry he did. With a deep, soul-wrenching love that made what Harry had done so much harder to bear. The one thing he couldn’t understand was why Harry had made his confession. Perhaps the boy _did_ have some sense of right and wrong. But then again, perhaps he and his godfather had been right…perhaps Dashwood and all his excesses should be stopped. Perhaps Severus was just feeling very old and weary.

He trailed slowly along the path until he came to the fountain, then he seated himself down and allowed himself to sag. The noise of the cascading water effectively masked the sound of the Orangery door being opened and closed, and, as he had closed his eyes, it was only when Harry dropped to his knees at Severus’ feet that he became aware he was no longer alone.

He took in the tear-stained face, the green eyes swimming in pools of, as yet, unshed tears and felt a jolt tug his heart, but he steeled himself.

“I thought I asked that you return to your room?” he said coldly.

The boy reached out a hand and tentatively laid it on Severus’ knee.

“Severus, I’m sorry…please…listen to me.” The voice was thick, muffled with emotion, but Severus would not allow himself to break…the boy had already proved he was a consummate actor.

“Do you really think you have anything to say that I could be the remotest bit interested in hearing?”

The boy paused and then said simply, “I love you.”

Severus screwed his face into an unwilling approximation of a mocking smile. “And yet you also love your godfather…how remarkably fickle you are.”

For a moment Harry looked confused. “Of course I love Sirius…he’s been like a father to me.”

“And incest is fully accepted in your family, is it?” Severus knew that remark was unwarranted, but he was hurting too much to act sensibly.

Harry frowned. “What are you talking about? I love Sirius like I would love a father….” His face suddenly cleared. “Is that what you thought?” he demanded. “That I am _in_ love with Sirius?”

“You seem to have gone to extraordinary lengths for someone who is merely your godfather…sacrificing your virginity for him…simply so he could have revenge on someone who had slighted him,” Severus said stubbornly, refusing to allow the glimmer of hope to surface. No matter what the boy said, the fact remained that he had lied and cheated. How could Severus ever believe anything Harry said?

Both the boy’s hands were now on Severus’ knees, and he was gazing up at the older man with a desperate expression on his face.

“Please, Severus…I know what I’ve done…and what I was planning to do…was wrong, but I wouldn’t… _couldn’t_ have gone through with it. I couldn’t have done that to you…”

“But ruining somebody else’s reputation would have been perfectly acceptable, would it?” Severus demanded.

“No, of course not, but….”

“But that is precisely what you were planning to do. What’s changed? Developed a conscience now you have had some time away from that cur who calls himself your godfather? Don’t you realise that what you were both planning to do was worse than _anything_ Dashwood has done? Didn’t you think that there might have been a good reason why Black was refused entry into the Order?” Severus allowed his anger to spill forth, determined to make Harry realise just how diabolical the plan had been. 

Harry dropped his forehead onto Severus’ knees, and he had to resist the sudden urge to weave his fingers into the silky black strands. “What was it?” The question was muffled and for a moment Severus had to think what it was that Harry had asked. The boy looked up at him, his face a picture of abject misery. “What was it?” he repeated. “That he did…to make Dashwood refuse him entry.”

Severus sighed and some of the fight drained out of him as an overwhelming weariness swept through his body. “Why don’t you ask _him_ , Harry?”

“Because I’m asking you,” the boy said determinedly.

Severus regarded the earnest face looking up at him, so desperate for answers. “Murder, Harry.” And watched the eyes go wide, the mouth drop open…the look of horror that creased the young face.

Harry shook his head. “No. That can’t be. You’re making this up. Siri would never hurt anyone!”

It was the use of the familiar, affectionate nickname that cut Severus to the quick.

“Making it up, Harry? No, I am afraid that your _wonderful_ godfather is no better than a common criminal. Why do you think he spent so much time on the continent?”

“T…travelling? He told me he wanted to see something of the world…having not had the opportunity as a young man.”

Severus’ bark of laughter was cruel. “Travelling? Ha! Evading the law, more like. Waiting for the hue and cry to die down…waiting until he thought it safe to return to England, his crime forgotten. Did he tell you how long he was ‘travelling’, Harry?”

“About three years,” Harry replied quietly, his eyes fixed on the path at his knees.

“And did you at no time think that that was a rather long time for anyone to spend _sightseeing_?”

Harry shook his head. “I never thought…I just supposed that he….” he trailed off.

“So now you know why Sir Francis refused him entry to the Order. Satisfied? Still think the world of your beloved godfather?”

The tears began to stream down Harry’s face in earnest. “No!” He jumped to his feet. “I don’t believe you. Why are you doing this to me? I love you Severus…why are you being so cruel to me?”

“How can you possibly love me?” Severus demanded, struggling to get to his feet. “How can you possibly love someone who is old, irascible and unprepossessing?”

********

Harry whirled round to face the older man and took a quick step back so that he was within inches of Severus. His chest was heaving with the raw emotion that was pounding in his head and his heart, shaking his limbs and blurring his vision.

“Do any of us chose who we fall in love with, Severus? I don’t see those things you said…I see _you_ , a man of wisdom, courage, humour, intelligence. Yes, I can see the darker side of you…but to appreciate the light we have to have darkness…and we all have a darkness within us.” He took a gasp of air, trying to steady himself from the emotional maelstrom that was threatening to tear him apart. Too much had happened in the space of a few short hours…the admitting of his deception, the fear of losing Severus, and now to be told that his beloved godfather was a murderer…it was almost more than Harry could bear. He needed a rock to anchor himself in this storm, for at the moment he was adrift and at a risk of foundering on the jagged reefs of hysteria. 

Once more he reached a hand out to Severus…a silent plea to the older man to save him. He had thought that Severus loved him…had trusted that that love would enable his lover to forgive him. A cool hand was placed on his; dark eyes bored into him.

“I loved you, Harry.”

_Loved_ …as in the past…and Harry felt the ground rock beneath his feet. “No,” he croaked, shaking his head. “Please, Severus, don’t give up on me…can’t you forgive me? Can’t you give us a chance?” He searched Severus’ face for any hint that the older man might falter in his resolution to push Harry away.

“Oh, Harry,” Severus said softly. “How could I ever trust you again?” He lifted the hand covering Harry’s and brought it up to cup the younger man’s face, his thumb sweeping through the tracks of Harry’s tears.

Harry pushed his face into the gentle caress, his eyes fluttering shut, his lips mumbling tiny kisses on the soft pad at the base of Severus’ thumb, the taste of the older man’s skin achingly familiar. “Please, Severus, just give me the chance to prove it to you…I would never have betrayed you… _will_ never betray you. You can trust me, you can. Just let me prove it.” Then he went still, fearing to say any more, knowing that he had said all he could, and now it was up to the man he loved to either accept his avowal…or to push him away, once and for all. He waited, allowing Severus’ hand to gently move over his face, hardly daring to breathe, his eyes shut, allowing his sense of touch to rule.

It was as if Severus were searching for the truth of Harry’s words with his fingers. Tiny, moth-like brushes of his fingertips combined with sweeping strokes from brow to jaw line. The fingers searched out every line, every swell, every secret place on Harry’s face, sometimes lingering, sometimes barely brushing over the flesh. Harry felt touches on his eyebrows, one fingertip tracing the arch of each sweep. Another pressed down the line of his nose, over his cheeks, around his eyes…this last touch as delicate as air disturbed by the beating of a butterfly’s wings. 

He trembled beneath the searching fingers, hoping…praying that Severus would find the honesty of his words in his exploration.

Soft lips on his, and Harry released a sob into the hot mouth that suddenly covered his; one strong arm came around him and he leaned into the embrace…gently, and although all he wanted to do was press himself so tightly to his lover’s form that they could never be separated…becoming one being with two beating hearts, he was still aware enough to take care that he didn’t injure Severus’ shoulder.

********

Severus gazed down into the face he cupped with his hand, the face he loved, _still_ loved, despite what he had said. He began moving his fingers, searching the pale skin so as to find some sign on it that Harry was telling the truth. Not sure if he was trying to etch Harry’s face into his memory, to sustain him once they were finally parted, or if he was merely reassuring himself that Harry was real, here, before him in the fading light.

His sense of betrayal went deep. But the pain he had felt when Harry declared his love for his godfather had receded like the ebbing tide, leaving in its place a beach swept clean of jealousy. He understood, now, that Harry’s affection for Black was simply that of any boy who suddenly finds there is someone who cares for him, that he is not so alone in the world as he had at first thought…and it illustrated very clearly how starved Harry must have been of any affection for most of his life, if he could still profess to love a man who had used him so despicably for his own ends.

He watched Harry’s face as he moved his fingers over it…and not once could he discern any flicker of distaste for Severus’ touch. Could he really trust the boy’s word? Was he strong enough to brave a relationship with Harry that might well end in misery? For the boy was young yet and no doubt would soon tire of his older lover. Did Severus really want to put himself through such heartache…or would the heartache be worse if he pushed the boy away…made him leave? Didn’t he owe himself the chance to discover if Harry’s avowal of love was real? And enjoy what he could of the boy whilst the relationship lasted? Seize a few dizzying months, or perhaps even years, of the bliss that he had found in Harry’s arms?

All the time, as the thoughts flittered through his mind like bats, Severus kept his fingers on Harry’s face. Now, suddenly, mind made up, he stooped and gently pressed his lips to Harry’s. The jolt that went through him simply reaffirmed the belief that he had made the right decision, and he wrapped one arm around the boy and pulled him close. 

For a while they kissed, until Severus drew away, his eyes intent on Harry’s face.

“You need to return to London, Harry.”

Harry began to protest, but Severus halted his outburst with a swift kiss. “You need to speak to Black…to hear the facts from him. I have told you the truth regarding his crimes, but I wish you to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. Then, if you still wish it, you may return here. I will be waiting.” 

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Whatever you say, Severus…I will always do whatever you say.”

Severus smiled but shook his head. “No, Harry, I would never ask that of you…Fay ce que vouldras…just promise me that whatever you do, you do it with honesty, truthfulness and openness. There must be no more lies and deceit if we are to have a chance of making this thing between us real.”

********

Harry nodded again, the relief making him light-headed. Yes, he would return to town—he owed his godfather the opportunity to confirm or deny the accusation of murder, but he would return, whatever the answer, because at Severus’ side was the only place he wanted to be…whatever the future might bring. He knew his godfather would be angry that he had failed in his mission but, really, he should never have asked Harry to undertake it in the first place. Harry knew that now.

“Come.” Severus was holding out his hand; Harry took it, and together they made their way out of the Orangery and back to the house.

From his vantage point beside a great yew tree, Neville watched the pair as they crossed the lawn, their figures almost lost in the cool dusk, and he grinned. Turning abruptly on his heel, a whistle on his lips, he strode off into the gathering night; all was right with the world, and Neville was a happy man.

 

****

**Fin**

**Author’s Notes**

The Hellfire Club (or Order of the Knights of St Francis of Wycombe as it was then known) was founded in 1751 by Sir Francis Dashwood. Some of the most prominent members of society could be found among its ranks. Thomas Potter was the son of an Archbishop. The Earl of Bute went on to become Prime Minister…he, in turn, promoted Sir Francis to the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer, wholly, it was rather cruelly mooted, because he was impressed with Dashwood’s ability to add up a drinks bill! (British politics…you gotta love ‘em!). As Sir Francis readily admitted he had trouble adding up numbers over five digits, the appointment was unsuccessful and short-lived. The Prince of Wales was also a member. 

Originally the group met at Dashwood’s home at West Wycombe, but soon relocated to the more spacious and secluded Medmenham Abbey, from whence the name Medmenham Monks was derived. There are caves in the grounds of West Wycombe and both they and the house can be visited. Sadly the underground stream is a fabrication, although there is a small body of standing water that must be crossed to reach the inner cavern.

Hamelia Patens is a real tropical plant. I spent some time researching plants to find one that fitted what I wanted it to do…during which time it was brought forcibly home to me just how many tropical plants have a medicinal use, anything from Aids to erectile dysfunction…and this wonderful resource is being systematically destroyed before we have even had a chance to discover a fraction of the benefits. The dose I mention is purely fictitious, in other words…Don’t Try This At Home!

Severus’ home is loosely based on Lyme Park in Cheshire, UK, which featured as the location for Pemberley in the BBC production of Pride and Prejudice (the version with Colin Firth). The Lantern can be found in its grounds, although I have yet to summon up the energy to walk up to it!

Finally I want to thank RaeWhit, my wonderful beta, once again. She originally received this fiction as one loooooooog one shot, and tackled same with aplomb. It is wonderful to have a beta one can rely upon to spot and correct my multitudinous mistakes! Not to mention putting up with the author’s paranoia, insecurity, idiocy and appalling inability to grasp the concept of semi-colons!


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